


It's Still Snowing

by Doomthatimpends



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 3b AU, Character Death, Doom, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff, Gen, I don't, I promise, I'm a terrible person, If You Squint - Freeform, Its really not, M/M, Mellow!Derek, Nostalgia, Owchies, Pancakes, Possibly Pre-Slash, Raised by Joss, Sass-fest, Shadows - Freeform, Sledding, Weird Plot Shit, Wolf!Derek, alpha!Scott, bloody blood, not angsty!, picks up after 3a, remember when this was fluffy?, werewolves acting like children
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-02
Updated: 2014-01-09
Packaged: 2017-12-25 09:33:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 32,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/951515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doomthatimpends/pseuds/Doomthatimpends
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A storm comes to Beacon Hills and there are some people who are kind of happy about that.</p><p>Post 3a, pre-3b. Derek and Cora come back and nothing terrible has happened yet.  But Stiles knows better....only no one will listen...</p><p>Because it is a STORM OF ILL-INTENT and so, so many bad things are going to happen but it'll end well. If it ever stops snowing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lug Me up Tiles!

**Author's Note:**

> So, it's hot, disgusting, and humid in So Cal right now, so I wrote this to keep cool in my brain at least.
> 
> written edited and posted from my phone while on the bus....eek.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t know why I’m awake but I’m starting to feel better about the situation.”  Isaac reported, eyes fixating on the pancakes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here, have some fluffy stuff. With like...feelings and shit.

 

 

It was still snowing. 

Stiles stood, blinking the sleep out of his eyes, looking out his window at the slowly waking world.  “IT’S STILL SNOWING!!”  He bellowed at the top of his lungs.  His father, still in bed, yelled something that could have been “shut up Stiles!”  Or maybe “Ugh muck Miles!” or “Lug Me up Tiles!”  Stiles preferred the last one on the grounds that he liked the thought of the faces his father would make if Stiles pulled up the kitchen floor tiles and lugged them upstairs to the man’s bed. 

Grinning in appreciation at his own mental hilarity, he returned his attention to the snow.  It had started around dinner time the night before and Stiles had bounced all through their meal of spaghetti.  His father had grumbled something about it probably not sticking, but lo and behold!  IT WAS STILL SNOWING!  Stiles grinned massively and grabbed his phone, calling Scott.

“What’s wrong?”  Was Scott’s worried answer.  He sounded suspiciously awake for a Saturday morning. But then again Scott had become suspiciously productive in the last year. 

“What?  Nothing’s wrong…why do you think something’s wrong?”  Stiles asked, frowning as he gazed adoringly out at the blanket of white covering everything that made the world glint in the pre-dawn light.

“It’s 5:30 in the morning. On Saturday.”  Scott pointed out.

“It’s _snowing._ ”  Stiles informed him.

“Still?”  Scott was surprised. While snow happened in Beacon Hills, it wasn’t usually around for long and rarely stuck.  Something about the shape of the valley they lived in and air pressure and other crap they were supposed to learn in school. 

“Look out the window!”  Stiles ordered.

“It’s still snowing!”  Came Scott’s reverent gasp. 

“Weather.com says it’s a freak storm, Scott.  It’s going to keep snowing all day.  Maybe until tomorrow.” Stiles reported, glancing back at the computer where he’d looked up outside sources to confirm what his eyes saw. 

“Sledding, Stiles.”  Scott whispered in awe. 

“Sledding.”  Stiles confirmed.

“Start the hot chocolate.  I’ll get Isaac.”  Scott ordered in his new and frequently mocked (by Stiles and Melissa) Alpha voice.  Stiles just hung up and bounded out of his room, bare feet slapping the floor as he ran past his dad’s cracked door.  He stopped at the top of the stairs and grinned to himself before scampering back to his dad’s room where his father was attempting to sleep in on a rare day off and snuck into the room.

He got nearly all the way to the bed before a voice came from under the blanket pile.  “I would rethink your next course of action if I were you.”  Dad growled. Stiles rethought it. Then jumped on the bed and attacked his father with a pillow. 

“IT’S SNOWING! IT’S SNOWING! IT’S SNOWING!”  He bellowed while his father tried to defend himself with another pillow.  A minute later Stiles was sprawled on the foot of the bed still grinning as his father still made feeble attempts to push him off the mattress and onto the floor. 

“Scott coming over?”  His Dad finally huffed at him, pretending like he wasn’t grinning too.

“Of course.”  Stiles frowned.  “And Isaac.” 

“That a bad thing?” John asked carefully.

“No…no…it’s cool…just…”

“Just not how it used to be?” 

“Yeah.  But nothing stays the same forever, so…”  With that deep thought, Stiles jumped up again, rearranging his twisted flannel sleep pants and snorted at the defensive posture his father took on, holding up a pillow as a shield when Stiles faked a lunge at him. 

“Go make me pancakes, son.”  He ordered from behind a shield of cotton.

“SNOW!”  Stiles yelled and ran towards the stairs again. 

“AND COFFEE!!”  John added, wincing as the sound of teenager galloping down stairs was much like teenage falling down stairs.  But he heard the barely controlled tumble continue to the kitchen so he relaxed. 

 

“I still don’t know why you didn’t let me get dressed.”  Isaac said, following Scott into the house twenty minutes later.  They were both still in flannel and plaid pajamas with tousled hair and slippers. 

“Tradition, Isaac.  We don’t get dressed until noon on snow days.”  Scott explained patiently.

“But you were already dressed, and you changed back into pjs…”  Isaac was confused.

“That is because Scott respects the sanctity of the snow day.”  Stiles informed him and gestured at the table with a spatula.  On the table was a plate already starting to tower with pancakes with place settings scattered around it.  John was there cuddling with a big mug of steaming coffee and absently pushing around pancake toppings as if too lazy to actually organize them in any way shape or form.  He mustered a rueful smile for Scott and Isaac as Stiles herded them to the table with his spatula.

“Morning boys.” He mumbled. “How are you?”

“I don’t know why I’m awake but I’m starting to feel better about the situation.”  Isaac reported, eyes fixating on the pancakes.  He sat down, forgetting his wariness of the man that once held him for questioning in the face of _pancakes._ Scott sat next to him and started serving himself which instigated a flurry of grabby hands.

Stiles kept adding to the pile, humming something annoying by Lady Gaga under his breath.  “Dad, do we still have my old sled?”  He asked as danced around shamelessly to music only he could hear.

“That thing fell apart years ago.  We still have a few of those big plastic disc sleds in the garage on the right side, hanging with the camping chairs.”  John reported. “Scott, you or Isaac better get them.  There are a lot of rusty sharp objects near them and frankly, Stiles wouldn’t survive the experience.”

“Hey!  I can navigate sharp things!”  Stiles protested.  John just snorted.  The other two had their mouths full.  Soon Stiles deemed the pancake pile (rapidly vanishing) sufficient and took his seat across from Scott to begin his own breakfast.  As was traditional, breakfast was followed by the lighting of the fireplace and the consuming of roasted marshmallows until even the werewolves looked closed to puking.  At that point, John had retreated to his bed again to try and sleep through the sound of three teenage boys being ridiculous.  Scott and Stiles had decided they had to tell Isaac about every snow day ever and Isaac was timidly sharing a few of his own better memories.

 

Around 9 am, the three finally dispersed to dress in proper outdoors clothing and boots and scarves and beanies then they met at Stile’s garage where Scott climbed a shelving unit and almost died for the sake of sleds. 

Then to the forest they went, up into the hills of the Preserve, searching for the perfect snowy hill.  There were others out…many residents of Beacon Hills having the same idea (although most of them were children) so they travelled deep into the quiet snow blanketed forest to a high-point where they could sled in peace. 

And so Isaac and Scott can try stupid werewolf tricks on the sleds. 

 

Stiles was on his ass in the snow laughing hysterically at the utter failure of one of these tricks (Isaac still couldn’t get Scott out of the snow bank he’d been deposited in) when a dry female voice spoke up. 

“Wow.  They’re even worse than they were when we left.” 

Stiles whirled around, startled and saw Cora standing there, arms crossed over her chest, wearing bright red snow boots over her jeans, an adorably poofy white coat and a bright red beanie with a little tassel.  Behind her stood Derek, in his usual jeans and leather, his only concession to the snow being taller black snow boots pulled over his jeans. 

He was carrying a big wood and metal sled slung over his shoulder and if Stiles didn’t know better, he’d say that the older werewolf looked…embarrassed. Stiles grinned and hopped up. 

“When did you guys get back?”  He asked, brushing snow from his ass. Isaac had turned to stare at the newcomers, leaving Scott to flail helplessly out of the snow bank and to fall on Isaac’s feet, snow covering his hair and jacket. 

“Last week.”  Cora answered with a shrug.  “You’re on our hill.”  She stated with a Derekesque scowl.  Stiles grinned.

“We missed your scowly Hale faces.  Everyone’s been smiling so much without you.”  He mocked.  “And this is public property.  And we were here first.”

“Hey, we can share…”  Scott said, shaking snow out of his hair like a dog. 

“This was always our hill.  We were here when we were _babies_.”  Cora insisted.

“We can share.”  Derek spoke up finally. Stiles didn’t notice at first as he was busy imagining Cora and Derek as babies in snow gear toddling around in the snow. 

“You guys have a real sled?  Cool.”   Scott bounded over, all smiles and took the sled from Derek.  Cora then chased Scott up the hill, complaining that it was _her_ sled.  Isaac walked over to Derek, who was gazing bemusedly after his sister.

“You didn’t tell me you were coming back already.”  Isaac said quietly, eyes on the ground.  Stiles didn’t think he was supposed to be hearing them but hell if he was going to move away. 

“You’re Scott’s now.  I didn’t think you would care.”  Derek answered, not looking at Isaac.  It was painfully awkward.  Stiles wished he had popcorn.

“You made me what I am Derek.  Scott’s Alpha now, but you are still important.  You still saved me from….”  Isaac trailed off and Stiles frowned. He’d never really thought much about what kind of relationship existed between Derek and the ones he’d bitten.  He knew that losing Erica and Boyd had nearly broken him, but he’d not considered what was left between Derek and his last surviving Beta.  And Isaac never mentioned it either. Derek said nothing, but Stiles watched his hand lift and settle on the back of Isaac’s neck to squeeze.  A comforting gesture that seemed to relax Isaac. 

“I sold the loft.  We’re renting a house near the high school.  There’s an extra room.”  Derek said quietly.  Isaac just nodded then all three of them looked up when Cora and Scott let out howls as they careened down the hill on the sled together, Cora in front, gripping the rope handle and Scott huddled behind her, arms thrown up in the air like he was on a roller coaster.   Stiles wondered, laughing, how Scott convinced her to ride down with him.

When the skidded to a halt just short of Derek, who didn’t flinch, and Isaac, who soooo did, Cora leapt from the sled and darted at Stiles and tackled him straight into the snow.  “You’re next!”  She announced, sitting on him as if he were the sled.  He realized then and there that he had a choice.  Either he could react like a teenage boy and get an awkward boner and turn things embarrassing and weird.  OR….

He grabbed a handful of snow and smashed it into her face the minute she turned to gloat to Derek.  She shrieked and he rolled away, knocking her over.  She yelped and was up and chasing him in seconds.  Fortunately she decided that when he grabbed the rope handle for the sled, that she would help him haul it up the slope instead of disemboweling him with her claws. 

He was out of breath when they got to the top, looking back at the others standing below. “Why….”  He started, gasping for air.  “Why don’t you go alone…..while I remember how …..lungs work….”  She snorted, not winded at all and started positioning the sled. 

“It doesn’t work as well with only one person.  Not enough weight.  That’s why I brought Derek.”  She explained.

“You’re going to go sledding with _Derek?_ ”  The thought boggled Stiles mind as much as tickled it.  “I would pay to see that.”  She grinned.

“Ten bucks and I’ll make it happen.”  She offered.  “Twenty and I’ll make him ride with _you.”_ And the possibilities to torture Derek were dazzling.  Stiles fumbled for his wallet.  “I’ll give you forty bucks if you also get him to come with us for hot coco and snowman construction after.”  He offered.  She considered for a moment, then gave a disturbingly blood-thirsty grin. 

“Deal.  Now get on and let’s ride!”  She snatched the cash and hid it in her pocket before hopping on the sled in front.  He stood ready behind her, gripping the sled then gave a mighty push and scrambled on behind her.  Then there was wind and snow and speed and _fun_ until they skidded up against a pile of snow at the bottom that Scott and Isaac were both still constructing under Derek’s absent gaze.  Cora jumped up and grabbed her brother’s arm and hauled him over the snow. “Pull us to the top!”  She commanded, sitting back in front of Stiles before he could get up.  “Just like Peter used to!”  She demanded. 

Derek gave her a suspicious look but apparently, it seemed to Stiles, that their trip had somehow ended with Derek completely wrapped around Cora’s finger.  It was almost endearing to watch.  Derek sighed and took hold of the rope handle and started hauling the sled with its two, not inconsiderable weights up the hill. Stiles weighed the urge to yell “Mush!”  Against the likely result of Derek dropping them and Cora being mad that he ruined whatever plan she had going.  Instead he bit his lip and grinned at Isaac and Scott, who were following them up, smirking at Derek’s subservience to his sister, carrying their own sleds and Stiles’.

“Peter used to pull two sleds of us up to the top then we’d race to the bottom.  Winners got to ride on Mom’s back on the way home.” Cora explained cheerfully enough.  It was the rest of them that felt sad at the thought of all the Hale’s had lost. 

“Was Peter creepy then too?” Stiles asked her.

“No, he was just an ass hole.”  Derek grumbled.

“Not all of the time.”  Cora protested.  “He was fun. He played a lot of pranks on Mom.”  She smirked at the memory of her Mom shoving him into a cabinet when he got too annoying. 

They reached the top and Derek turned the sled around for them while Core squeezed Stiles knees where they bracketed her to warn him.  She then hopped up.  “I wanna try a disc sled!”  She announced.  “I’ll take Stiles’ you ride down with him, Derek.”  She ordered.  Derek’s eyes narrowed at her.  Stiles blinked then hid his grin by scooting forward.  He may not survive the ride down but image of broody Derek growling down a hill behind him would be precious and well worth it.

“No. I’ll walk down.”  Derek grumbled.

“No way.  That’s dumb. Just ride down with Stiles then pull me back up and we’ll go down together then we’ll go get hot chocolate before poor puny human Stiles freezes to death.”

“Hey!”  Stiles protested but was ignored as the two werewolves stared each other down.  Scott looked ready to step in as peacemaker but Isaac grabbed his shoulder, eyes on Cora like he suspected.

“Fine.”  Derek finally grunted and Cora gave a happy hop.  Stiles tried not to cackle evilly as Derek went to the back of the sled. “Move up more.”  He snapped at Stiles.  The teenage shimmied forward a little bit more then held onto the handle as Derek started pushing then they were off and Stiles was being squished by Derek’s knees and all he could here was his own triumphant whoop as they sailed down the hill at breakneck speed. 

He didn’t worry until the sled busted through the snow berm and kept on towards the trees.  “Uh, Derek?”  He started.  Derek, simply reached out to his left and grabbed a tree with one arm and squeezed Stiles with his legs so the sled kept going and then thumped into the snow.  Stiles let out a loud oof and sat up in time to see the sled hit a bump, flip over and smack into a tree mid-air.  “Overdid the push off a little….”  He commented and looked back at Derek, who was already getting up, brushing off his jeans and ….smiling?  Derek was grinning like an idiot.  “Oh my god, you enjoyed that…we’re all going to die.”  Stiles gasped.

“What?  Why would we die?”  Derek grabbed him by the arm and hauled him to his feet.

“Because bad things happen whenever you’re happy!”  Stiles waved his arms, hoping to convey his alarm.  Derek smacked him upside the head and hauled him through the snow to where the others were skidding to laughing stops at the berm they’d obliterated.  

“Derek!  Pull me to the top again!”  Cora demanded.  Derek just gave her a look, but then he turned and retrieved the sled, still miraculously in one piece then waited for her to climb on before turning and _running_ up the hill full tilt, drawing surprised peals of laughter from his sister.   Stiles stood with the other two werewolves watching and grinned. 

“Look, it’s a Christmas Miracle.”  Isaac snarked.  Stiles snorted.

“No, its horrible…look at them!  Laughing!  Having wholesome family fun!  Hales aren’t supposed to be happy.  They’re cursing us _right now_.”  He insisted.

“If you didn’t want them to be happy, why’d you pay Cora to get Derek on the sled with you?”  Scott asked his friend with narrowed eyes. 

“How’d you know that?” Stiles sputtered.

“The wind changed when you were both at the top.  We could hear everything.”  Isaac answered with a smirk. 

“And he _still_ rode down with you.”  Scott was grinning.  “It was _so_ cute.”  Stiles felt in that moment that he had only one thing he could do.  He tackled Scott into the snow.

Scott was forced to roll Stiles bodily out of harm’s way when the sled came back down, and Stiles used the distraction to smush a handful of snow into the werewolf’s face. After that came all-out war and Stiles taught Derek the very important fact that disc sleds make excellent shields when your werewolf sister decide to imbed snowballs in your face.

When it was over and Stiles was half-frozen a truce was called.  They retired to the Stilinski household to warm up.  When the sun set again that night, it was still snowing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that I've lured you with fluff...I will now kill everyone you have ever loved. MAHAHHAAHA! 
> 
> Or not....
> 
> Yeah.   I [Tumblr](http://www.tumblr.com/blog/doomthatimpends).  I LEARNED IT FROM WATCHING YOU!!! *sob*


	2. Sleep is for the weak!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Done giving orders, Alpha Scott?” Isaac asked with a teasing smirk. Scott flushed and turned to follow the Sheriff out into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yup...still snowing....  
> And yes. I KILLED THE FLUFF. I murdered it with plot. Sorry...
> 
> If you haven't guessed this is going to be a slow-building kind of Sterek thing. 
> 
> Also, People yell "Scott!" a lot.

“It’s _STILL_ snowing!”  Stiles reported from the window the next morning.  There was a collective groan from the heaps of werewolves all over the living room.  It was just past 2 am and the marshmallows, hot chocolate, and pizza had thrown everyone into a coma.  The Harry Potter Marathon they’d started was stuck looping on the menu screen of Order of the Phoenix, but muted, probably by his father on his way to bed. 

Stiles turned from the window to frown at the rest of them.  Scott was curled up on his half of the couch, feet slowly pushing into the other half that Stiles had just vacated and the blanket they’d been fighting over all night was now fully in his possession. 

As he watched Scott shifted a little and his right arm straightened to hang over the side of the cushion.  On the floor below Scott slept Isaac, snuggled into a commandeered couch cushion, oblivious to his Alpha’s hand dangling half an inch over his shoulder. There was an extra blanket from the linen closet thrown over him, probably also the work of his dad. 

Stiles glanced at Derek and Cora and saw another blanket, Stiles’ old quilt from when he was little, spread over them.   He then paused and continued to look because really…they were just _adorable_.  Derek was asleep in the extended recliner with Cora snuggled into his side all cuddly.  Big scary werewolf snuggles.  Stiles smirked, then blinked when Derek snuffled his face from Cora’s hair and pushed his nose into the quilt and smiled in his sleep. 

He leaned back against the window, contemplating the pile of Hales before them.  Something had changed while they were away.  He saw it mostly in Derek, but it was there in Cora as well.   They seemed more at peace.  Calm.  Derek was relaxed all day, still growly and sarcastic, but there was far less tension in him.  Like he was under less pressure. 

Stiles figured that it was probably the fact that he wasn’t Alpha anymore.  Alpha had never suited Derek.  Derek was a terrible leader.  Everyone knew it. Scott was the natural. All day long Stiles had noticed that the Hales deferred to Scott whenever he put on his Alpha voice, no matter how much Stiles teased him for it.  Stiles wondered if Derek was more relaxed because he wasn’t being forced to lead when he preferred to follow.

Derek was also obviously focusing on his sister now, keeping her happy even when Stiles and Scott teased him for it.  But then, Derek had followed his mother as Alpha, then Laura...he was probably trained from birth to obey pushy Hale women (if their temperament was anything like Cora’s).

Stiles snapped out of his reverie when he realized the cold from the window was seeping into his plaid flannel pant-covered butt.  He rubbed at it absently then turned to look outside again. 

It was a half-moon and the light from that half was turning the snow-covered floor into a blue blanket that was almost eerie. As he looked out he started to feel it.  The Darkness.  That’s was Scott and Allison called it, as they had no idea how to not be overdramatic.  It always started slow, then came over him all at once when the feeling of dread was strongest.  It was always the same.  Creeping despair, then a feeling like something was sitting on his chest.  Allison and Scott described their differently, but Stiles knew his to be like a panic attack, stealing his breath from him, but without the same urgency.  Instead of fighting to breathe he found himself just holding still and feeling it.  A morbid curiosity forcing him to study the sensation and try to understand the tiny bit of supernatural that he could feel for himself.

As the weight settled on his chest he could hear movement behind him but couldn’t seem to move.  He could only stare out at the snow and suffer. As if from another world he heard a whine behind him and recognized the sound of Scott having a bad dream. He wanted to turn but he was stuck, unable to remember how.

“Stiles?” It was Derek’s voice. He was standing behind him.  “What is it?”  Stiles could only stare.  And as he stared he saw something. A shadow detached from the side of the house and drifted over the snow.  It was shaped like a man, tall and just…pure shadow.  Stiles really stopped breathing.  But he could feel warm breath on his neck as Derek moved closer.

“Stiles, breathe.” He clamped a hand down on his shoulder and just like that Stiles was free again. He gasped and huffed, trying to regain his breath without taking his eyes from the shadow. 

“Do you see that?!” He managed, pointing at the shadow. It was just standing in the middle of the backyard…almost as if it was looking back at him.  Derek leaned past Stiles to look outside but then straightened up, shaking his head.

“There’s nothing there.”

“Scott?”  Cora’s worried voice broke into their conversation.  Stiles reluctantly tore his eyes from the shadow and turned to look at Scott.  He was still asleep, but completely wolfed out, digging claws into the couch cushion and snarling. 

“Scott!”  Isaac and Cora were trying to wake him up to no avail.  Stiles started towards him but froze halfway because he could _see_ something.  A Shadow.  Hovering over Scott was another shadow figure, arms stretched to Scott’s throat, squeezing. 

“Scott!”  Stiles stared a moment then charged.  He was surprised when he hit something solid, his mind preparing him automatically to go right through the shadow.  But he hit the figure and it jolted, falling back over the couch.  Scott sat up snarling and would have grabbed Stiles where he stood over him if Isaac hadn’t pulled the human back to the floor a split second before the claws got him. 

“Get it!”  Stiles yelled, scrambling to his feet and around the couch to see- nothing. It was gone.  His head whipped around, trying to find something but the room was clear.  He ran past the others back to the window where he saw the first shadow and watched as it was joined by a second. 

“What the hell?”  Scott breathed, suddenly beside him.

“Are you seeing this?”  Stiles whispered.

“Yeah.” 

“Seeing what?  There’s nothing there.”  Isaac demanded. Stiles glanced at him and Cora and Derek where they’d come up behind them.

“The shadow men?”  He prompted. No hits, only Scott knew what he was talking about.

“They’re leaving…” Scott growled and headed for the front door.  Everyone scrambled after him as he walked out then ran into the snow.  Stiles, being sane and human, stopped on the porch as he had only socks on his feet.  The others ignored the cold, tromping out in the snow. 

“They’re gone.”  Stiles yelled then jumped when a hand closed on his shoulder.  It was just his Dad though. 

“What are you all looking at?”  He asked, frowning, still half-asleep.

“Something attacked Scott…they’re these shadow men…I don’t know.  I hit one but then it disappeared.”  And didn’t that feel like a good trip.  He could just _tell_ his dad about the weird shit.

The others were coming back now, Scott’s feature blending back into human as then trudged up the porch steps.

“Why did only Scott and Stiles see it?”  Isaac asked anxiously as they all returned to the living room.  Derek went to the couch and sniffed around the room. 

“There’s no scent….” Cora complained.  “Just us.” 

“I felt it…I hit something. And before it was like the dar-“Stiles froze, realizing his Dad was present.  Okay, so maybe he couldn’t bring up _all_ the weird shit.  Scott, Allison, and he had decided not to tell their parents what they risked to save their lives…and what the consequences were.  For one thing…they’d still all be grounded if their parents found out they’d drowned for them.  And God know what they would do to Deaton for facilitating it.

“It was like being suffocated.”  Scott covered his stumble. 

“Stiles wasn’t breathing until I touched him.”  Derek said, scowling at the younger Stilinski.

“Right.  Right.  I just can’t breathe without you, Derek.”  Stiles said with a smirk.  Derek rolled his eyes. 

“Shadowmen.  Just Shadowmen?” John mulled over.  “That’s all you have to go on?”

“Either that or there was LSD in the marshmallows.”  Isaac muttered.

“Fine, why don’t all of-“John was interrupted by the sound of his cell phone ringing.  Stiles was briefly glad that he’d finally gotten a hold of it long enough to change the stock ringtone to the X-files theme song.  His father claimed to hate it, but Stiles had seen the reflexive smile when it played and his Dad had yet to change it back.

“Stilinski.”  He answered the phone. Stiles was annoyed and amused when every wolf in the room tilted their heads like little puppies as they eavesdropped. 

“What is it?” He whispered to Derek, who was standing closest to him.

“More attacks.”  Derek told him, without turning his frown from the Sheriff. John hung up and looked at the watching werewolves.

“I have to go in…I’m assuming you’ll all stay here and _together_ where you can keep an eye on my very human son?”  He asked, the last was pointed at Derek for some reason Stiles couldn’t fathom.

“We’ll stay with him.”  Derek assured the older man.

“Good.”  John turned and headed upstairs. 

“I’m calling Allison.”  Scott said suddenly.  “She might’ve…I mean if Stiles and I…”  He already had his phone to his ear.   “Isaac, call my Mom, make sure she’s alright?”  Isaac nodded, already calling.  Stiles turned and jogged up the stairs after his father and went into his room to grab his laptop. 

He didn’t notice he was being followed until he turned on his light and glanced anxiously at the shadows left behind.  Derek raised an eyebrow at him from the doorway. “Oh my god, I’m just in my room.”  Stiles sputtered.  “You don’t have to follow me just because my Dad’s paranoid.”  Derek just shrugged and leaned on the doorjamb while Stiles searched out his laptop’s power cable. 

He didn’t protest when Stiles shoved the laptop at him then preceded out the door and back downstairs, cell phone stuck to his head. 

“Lydia!  Hi!”  He said quickly when she answered more quickly than he expected. 

 _“Stiles?”_  She sounded out of breath and Stiles made a face when he heard a male voice. 

“There’s something going on.”  He told her as he waved at Derek until he put the laptop down on the coffee table. 

 _“I know…I…I’m in the woods.”_ Lydia answered, surprising him and bringing the other’s attention to his conversation.  _“There was a shadow…I followed it and there’s a body here…Stiles…there’s another body.”_   Lydia sounded broken and strained like she’s been crying. 

“Are you alone? I mean aside from the-“

 _“Aiden is here, he followed me…I can’t do this again, Stiles.”_   His heart broke a little for her.

“I’m sorry, I know.  Listen…I’m going to give the phone to my dad.  Tell him where you are.”  He said, waving his father, now dressed in uniform, over to him.  “Dad, Lydia found a body in the woods.”  He handed him the phone.

“Lydia, are you alright?”  John asked, careful to keep his voice calm.  “Good.  Just tell me where you are…Okay, got it.  Stay put, I’ll be there in a few minutes.  I’m going to say it was an anonymous tip, so I don’t have to explain to the Feds what you were doing there. You two think about having a good alibi.”  Stiles winced.  Scott’s dad had been up in everyone’s grill for months now. 

John returned Stiles’ phone and started for the door.  Stiles gave Scott an alarmed look. Scott stepped up to the door.  “Can I ride with you?  Allison says she saw something but her Dad scared it away…I don’t think anyone should be alone.”  John considered the kid in front of him and the calm confidence he spoke with and sighed.  

“Fine, let’s go.”  Scott glanced back at the rest of them.

“Stiles, call Deaton, see if you can figure out what this is before it turns into something worse.  See if this is what he was warning us about.” He ordered. “Isaac, go to Allison’s, make sure she’s okay…she wasn’t saying something.” Isaac nodded, grabbing his shoes from by the fireplace where they’d all been stacked to dry.

“I’ll go with him.”  Cora volunteered.

“No, Cora…can you go to the hospital and meet my Mom?  She’s off shift in an hour.”  Cora considered this then nodded.

“Fine.” She looked to Derek, who tossed her his keys. Scott tossed Isaac his own to his bike. 

“Derek-“

“I’ll watch Stiles.”  Derek assured him, getting a dirty look from Stiles.

“Oh good.  I was so afraid I wouldn’t have a big scary werewolf to stand around and not see anything if the monsters came back.”  He grumbled.

“Done giving orders, Alpha Scott?”  Isaac asked with a teasing smirk.  Scott flushed and turned to follow the Sheriff out into the night. 

Left alone in the living room, Stiles watched Derek lock the door behind them then prowl around to the windows to glare outside.  “Will you fetch my slippers?”  He asked hopefully and just got a dirty look.  He shrugged and woke up his laptop.  “Worth a try.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So....who feels like watching GHI?


	3. We're all Precious Snowflakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snow and Butts and Sammiches.
> 
> oh and DOOOOOOM!!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments! Bouncy_cat, your comments make me bouncy. That's talent! 
> 
> So....I tried to get some fluff back. at least sammiches.

 

There were times that Sherriff Stilinski found himself shamefully grateful that half of his deputies were rookies. It had been torture to bring them in after so many if his good people had died for some sick supernatural murder spree. Now, surrounded by clueless newbies, he found the tiniest silver lining. Of course the silver was tarnished by the lies.

"Everyone get back out there, we have a lot of scared folk, and they need to see us on the streets." He ordered the deputies hovering as the body crime scene was being processed. Of course, he only called it a crime scene in his head. Outwardly he was able to write the dead camper off as accidental. The man had frozen to death. Only the ME would be experienced enough to tell him differently. To tell him that the body had defensive wounds...defensive wounds but a peaceful expression, as if he died in his sleep after a struggle. "I'll wait here for the coroner."

With that the deputies filtered off scene and he watched the lab guys finish up before sending them off as well. They'd have seen the wounds, but by the time they did, he was only one they could tell about it. When they were gone he called the coroner. It was 3:45am, Jim Beltras lived twenty minutes away. He'd have just enough time.

When he was confident the man was on his way, John turned towards the tree line surrounding the clearing where the unfortunate camper had set up his two man tent. "It's clear." He called.

In his head, John still hadn't quite reconciled the Alpha werewolf with the idiot kid that ran around with his idiot son doing idiot things teenagers did.  Objectively, he knew that Scott was more now, not only supernaturally, but maturity-wise. He'd had a few long conversations with Melissa about their sons and both had mourned the fact that their boys had been forced to grow up by all that had happened.

Stiles was so serious sometimes. He covered it with jokes and general spazzticity, but behind his eyes he was always thinking, calculating, assessing. He'd seen the same wariness of the world in veteran cops who had been in ten too many life-threatening situations. To think that his boy had handled this without him...had stepped up and fought to save lives when most kids were freaked about their grades or dating, made him ridiculously proud and heartbroken at the same time. He never wanted this life for his son, but he knew better than to try too hard to shelter him. Stiles had inherited a deadly combination of his own hero complex and his wife's obsession with solving puzzles.

Melissa had confessed to turning to Stiles for answers and guidance out of instinct when her head screamed that he was still the kid that thought it would be funny to booby-trap her garage door with a fire extinguisher. John had the same feeling now, turning to Scott for answers, for help with his work.

And then there was the eerie way that Scott slipped out of the trees, silent and graceful, no stumbling like he had most if his life. John was oddly sad that he'd finally cleaned up the last scraped knee, even though he knew the kid had started doing that for himself ages ago.

He frowned when Lydia followed Scott out if the dark woods, her hand clutching the arm if the other Alpha boy, Aiden. He'd told them to go home. The girl looked so pale and delicate in the moonlight, somehow unreal like a porcelain replica of a woman.

They came fully into the light of the single leftover floodlight the lab techs had set up, and looked around again. "Victim's name was Dennis Colefield. He was camping here about a week alone from the looks of it.  Driver's license puts his home address in San Diego. Probably homeless, drifting through." He told Scott as he knelt in front of the open tent looking in at the dead body.

"It isn't cold enough for him to have frozen so completely." Lydia said as she looked over Scott's shoulder.

"There’s a lot of people’s scents now…but I can smell fear...and anger. He fought back.  Blood." Scott said, voice grim.

"I can't smell anything that isn't human." Aiden added, scuffling around the perimeter after Lydia had released his arm.

"From what I could tell before the place got trampled, he fought his attacker and it knocked him out. It killed him when he was out." He came over and reached past them. Lowering this gloved hand to the corpse and pushing it up so they could see the part his deputies really hadn't noticed.

The fleshy part of the man's ass and thighs had been cut off with a knife and the blood had flash frozen. He could hear Lydia’s breath catch, but the other two didn’t react much, which depressed John to think of.

"Looks like a filet was cut out of him." Aiden said, peering over Scott's crouch.

"I couldn't find any footprints other than his, no weapons, nothing." John shrugged as he looked around the scene again.  “If not for the injuries, I’d say he was alone.”

"So this is worse than Shadowmen suffocating people in their sleep." Scott sighed and got up. John was about to make a comment when Lydia cut him off.

"Why is it still snowing? I thought the storm was just passing through." She asked, raising her face to the steadily falling snowflakes.

"You think it might be related?" Aiden asked.

"I'm learning not to believe in coincidences." Scott said, sounding as tired as John felt.

 

"Stop pacing and sit down before I try to trip you." Stiles snapped at Derek. "I don't feel like you killing me today." Derek hid a smirk over Stiles assumption of how such a confrontation would end.

"What do you expect me to do?" He asked, turning from the window to look at him.  He was genuinely curious. Stiles flailed his hand absently at the rest of the couch without looking away from his laptop. He had called and left a message for Deaton, and now he was looking online.

"Sit! Watch a movie! Stare annoyingly over my shoulder like you were pretending not to do ten minutes ago.  I can feel you breathing on me when you do that and you smell like s'mores."

"Is that a bad thing?" Derek asked, bemused.

"No, I told you you could hover over my shoulder and breathe on me, didn't I? Oh my God that sounded weird.  Why don’t you make yourself useful and make me some more s'mores. And coffee. I need coffee." he glanced up to see Derek's annoyed face. "Well I have a billion bad GHI references and paranormal wannabes to sift through and I didn't even get a nap! I need a little assistance here." Derek considered Stiles a moment then started for the kitchen. "Woah, wait, where are you going? You said you would stay with me!" Derek stopped and turned to give him a look of disbelief.

"I'm getting coffee...like you asked for...." the "Duh" was heavily implied. Stiles blinked.

"Oh...I thought...I didn't expect you to actually...." He trailed off, face red. Derek rolled his eyes and continued into the kitchen. "Stop being nice to me!  It’s confusing!!" Stiles yelled after him. Derek may or may not have grinned to himself. Only the shadows could see his face.

While Derek was in the kitchen making clanking domestic-type noises, Scott texted Stiles a few pictures of a body that he quickly emailed to himself then opened up on his laptop.

"Uh...Derek...are there any monsters you know of that slice off people's butts?" He called, only a little creeped out by how dark the room suddenly seemed. He didn't want to stay in the living room alone so he briskly walked (retreated like they were _right behind him_ ) to the kitchen.

"What are you talking about?" Derek asked, glancing up from where he'd been glowering at the coffeemaker's sloooow progress.

"Scott sent pics of the body. Dude was frozen and had his butt sliced off. Are there butt-slicing monsters? A subset of werewolf? Gluteus Sliceus?" Derek considers for a moment then handed Stiles a plate with a sandwich on it.

"I wanted s'mores." Stiles said, looking at the tasty-looking ham sandwich. There was even lettuce and tomatoes. Derek had bothered with foliage...it looked delicious.

"You need real energy, not sugar." Derek informed him. "Werewolves don't cut up humans like that." He added. "Were they clean cuts?"

"I'll show you, but yeah looked pretty clean..." Stiles shoved the sandwich in his mouth. "Ohmuhguhd." He gasped around the sandwich. Was that a little BBQ sauce in there? Best Sandwich Ever. He finished his mouthful. "Will you marry me and be my sammich making wife?" Derek rolled his eyes and turned back to the coffee. "Can I have s'mores for dessert?" He added, forgetting that Derek wasn't the boss of him in the face of this beautiful sandwich. The bread was lightly toasted and perfectly crispy. "Don't take this personally, but I love you."

"Could be a human that killed him. But the haunches are also where the best bulk of meat is on most animals..." Derek's frown deepened. "I'll look at the pictures. Then I'll call Peter if we can't find anything. He has his own bestiary we can check."

Stiles nodded cheerfully, all foreboding or horror abandoned mid-sandwich. "No more s'mores or you'll crash from the sugar." Derek added as the coffee maker finally finished. He poured two mugs.

"Can I at least have sugar and marshmallows in my coffee?" Stiles asked petulantly after the next bite. Derek scowled even harder. "Hey, not everyone takes it black like your soul.  Or your eyebrows. I like my coffee lighter...like my own eyebrows."

"Your eyebrows just dilute the seriousness of the coffee." Derek informed him even as he surrendered Stiles' mug to his own questionable discretion. Stiles' aforementioned eyebrows popped up in surprise at Derek's non-serious answer and his smirk as he took his own black coffee and started for the living room again. Stiles stared after him. "Derek made a funny..." He whispered to himself as if afraid that voicing his realization would nullify the reality if what just occurred.

"Stiles! Your screen's locked." Derek yelled at him, spurring him into scrambling with hands full of food and coffee back into the Living room. 


	4. Owch.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Danny? What happened? Are you okay? Did something try to freeze you to death and maybe slice off your butt?" Came Stilinski's rapid fire response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...Danny notices some things. Stiles meets some friendly concrete! Exciiiiitement! Yeah I wrote this chapter on the bus crammed between a heavily pregnant and garlic scented woman yelling into her phone in Spanish, and a dude that smelled like he bathed in l'eau de Garlic. Good times.
> 
> This thing is unbeta'd and tossed out as soon as it's spell-checked so if anyone spots anything terribly wrong, let me know and I'll fix it. I'm just rushing it out for the sole purpose of exorcising it from my brain.

 

Danny was not enjoying himself.

In fact, he was doing the opposite. He was pretty damn miserable. And cold. And tired. Oh and _freaked_ the fuck out. That was not how this night was supposed to go.  He wasn’t supposed to be miserable tonight.

Because he'd fallen asleep sprawled over his cute boyfriend's lap while watching the Avengers and had woke up because he couldn't breath and then when his worried boyfriend pulled him upright and he was able to breathe and move again, he was able to open his eyes in time to see that Ethan had _red glowing eyes and fangs._

So...Danny was now huddled against the bathroom door on the cold tile floor, barricading it against the monster that he'd just today considered possibly maybe falling in love with. Said monster was currently sitting on the other side  of the door.

"Come on, something was happening to you, Danny, there was something attacking you.  Please just come out here where I can protect you?" Ethan was pleading.

"Give me my phone." Danny demanded.

"Why? Who are you going to call?" Ethan sounded worried. "No one will believe you..." the last wasn't delivered like a taunt or a threat...Ethan sounded worried.

"I don't know, but I'd feel a lot less likely to start screaming if I had my phone!" He insisted. Ethan Sighed noisily. Then, to his utter shock, Danny saw his phone being pushed under the crack in the door.

"Please just don't call the cops or anyone until I can explain?" he requested quietly through the door. Danny stared at his phone and thought for a long few minutes. He was scared. Something had paralyzed him, froze him to the bone so that five minutes later, wrapped in a towel he'd grabbed once he'd fled to the bathroom, he was still shivering hard. But the more he thought about it, the more he remembered Ethan's scared expression, his hands shaking him as if trying to wake him.

"You weren't attacking me...you were trying to help?" He whispered quietly, more to himself than Ethan, but Ethan heard anyhow.

"You couldn't move or breathe. I was trying to wake you for ages." He was quiet for a minute and Danny shivered and stared at his phone. "That's why I shifted, I was scared. I wouldn't hurt you. I can explain if you let me."

Danny chewed his lip like he only did when no one was watching and took a breath. "I-I think I need to hear this from someone I know I can trust." He said, the events of the last three years coming together in what was starting to be a complete picture. Jackson freaking out and leaving, McCall suddenly becoming so much... _more..._

The murders and animal attacks...he shuddered. There was a lot missing but he needed to hear the truth, everything from someone who he knew was human...knew wouldn't lie if it really really mattered. And at the center of everything that had happened, he knew of one person who had been annoyingly human for years now. Someone he actually trusted more than Jackson, more than Lydia because he knew how he was raised. He tapped his phone a few times then raised it to his ear.

"Who are you calling?" Ethan demanded, worried.

"Danny? What happened? Are you okay? Did something try to freeze you to death and maybe slice off your butt?" Came Stilinski's rapid fire response.

"Stiles, I need you to come to my house and explain why my boyfriend had red eyes and fangs and don't pretend like you don't know what I'm talking about." Danny said, carefully composed. There was silence for a minute.

"Danny, did Ethan hurt you? Did he bite you at all, this is important."

"He didn't hurt me- did you say 'slice off my butt'?" Danny frowned in confusion. Stiles was an adventure to follow in a normal conversation, right now his mind didn't want to make the effort.

"Nevermind, just....hang tight. We'll be over in a minute."

"We?" But Stiles had already disconnected.

"You called _Stilinski?"_ Ethan sounded offended.

"He knows about this stuff doesn't he?" Danny answered.

"Yeah, but he's an idiot." Danny smirked and pulled the towel tighter around himself.

"If you believe that then you don't really pay attention."

 

Ethan was the least terrifying if the Alpha twins and last he checked they had a truce with them still, as they'd been tamed by Danny's annoying charming grin and Lydia's magical vagina. But Stiles had no illusions about who he could trust and who was a homicidal freak of nature that could merge into his twin brother to form an Uber-Alpha.

He looked to Derek, who was already grabbing his jacket. "You wearing that?" Derek asked, giving Stiles' flannel plaid pants a look.

"It's _Danny_." He said as if that explained everything and shoved his bare feet into his boots. Stiles grabbed his own jacket and started out the door. Derek followed him out, pulling out his cell.

"How far is it? We don't have a car." Everyone had taken all the wheels available.

"Two blocks, come on." And Stiles started running. Derek stared after the pajama clad teen running into the dark snowing night towards an Alpha that may have turned against everyone and shook his head. He started running after him, easily catching up. Someone had to jeep the idiot alive.

As he ran he called Scott but just got voicemail. "Scott, we're on our way to Danny's house...Ethan outed himself. We might need help." he put his phone in his pocket then skid to a halt just short of Stiles, who was stopped on the sidewalk staring at...nothing.

"Stiles-" He began but quieted when Stiles stepped back almost into him. He could suddenly smell his fear. "What is it?"

"Shadowmen. Three of them outside Danny's house. I think they see us." Derek stepped forward scanning the yard Stiles was staring at but saw nothing. Then he shifted just his eyes and there...he could make out three ghostly figures, white and grey, translucent but recognizable as people. He grabbed Stiles' arm and tugged him around so he was out of range of the things.

"I see them.." He growled and flicked his claws out. The figures were just standing there waiting for something though. That thing came from left field completely and hit Stiles in the side, throwing him clear into the street where he skidded into the far sidewalk and slumped in the snow.

In the split second it took Derek to turn, the attacker was already on him, claws ripping a roar from his chest.

 

Danny felt the door he was leaning on move, telling him that Ethan wasn't leaning on it anymore and looked at the handle, anxious that he was going to try to get inside, but the handle didn't move.

"Danny...I hear something outside...I think Stiles is in trouble. I'm going to go check. Just stay there. Don't leave the house." Ethan ordered and Danny listened to him walk away. Danny then jumped up and ripped the door open because of the sudden fear that Ethan might be planning to hurt Stiles while pretending otherwise. He ran to the window and saw Ethan running out the front door, barefoot and jacketless. Then he looked up and saw a crumpled body in the gutter across the street. Only Stiles wore that much plaid.

"Shit!" He looked around his room then grabbed up his lacrosse stick and shoved his feet in a pair of slippers. He was out the door without a second thought. Once  he got to the yard he froze, seeing what wasn't in view from the window.

There was a man in black leather and jeans slumped on the ground a foot from Ethan, who was facing off with something that wasn't a man. It couldn't be a man. It was nearly eight feet tall, bent forward at its stopped shoulders. It was naked but for a ragged cloth at its waist, its body grotesquely emaciated and covered in wrinkled and drooping blue-white skin. It had scant stringy hair hanging in its face as it snarled with massive...fangs? It raised its hands, fingers long with claws, like a bird's talons, all dripping with dark blood.  As he stared, Ethan leapt at it and was swatted aside like a gnat, yelping as he hit the tree in the neighbor's front yard.

When Ethan didn't get up right away the thing laughed and it sounded like metal shrieking. He flinched and the motion drew its attention. "Hungrrry..." it creaked then held out its bloody hand to him. "Feed meeee."

Danny considered his options, considered that he might be having the weirdest nightmare ever, then decided that feeding the monster was probably a bad idea. He tightened his grip on the lacrosse stick and raised it more like a bat.

"Help Stiles!" The man crumpled on the ground rasped as he hauled himself up again and lunged at the thing, tackling it mid-torso and throwing it back. Danny hesitated between running to Ethan or Stiles but then Stiles let out the loud gasp and started choking.  He could see a shadowy figure bent over the other teen, shadow hands extended to Stiles' throat.  He didn't hesitate anymore.

Danny ran across the street and yelled, swinging his lacrosse stick at the shadowman as hard as he could.  He half-expected it to pass through, but it connected and knocked the thing away.  Danny skid to his knees next to Stiles as the other teen still shook and gasped. Danny could see Stiles' skin turning blue in front of him. He grabbed him by the shoulders and hissed at how cold he was, but then lifting him into a sitting position helped somehow. Stiles gasped for air again and seemed to be breathing, if not conscious.

Danny glanced back to see where the Shadow was.  It was backed off now, ten feet away on the sidewalk waiting for something.  Danny looked for the other creature then.  It was laughing again as the other man, no...he was different. He had glowing blue eyes and fangs like Ethan. The man was swiping at it with claws while Ethan crept up behind it with glowing red eyes that freaked Danny on a whole new level. 

"Hold on, Stiles." He said and hoisted the other boy in a fireman's carry, then started carrying him to the house. He heard the sirens when he got to the porch and turned to see the thing bound away between houses as a cop car screeched around the corner. Danny looked for Ethan and saw him helping the other vaguely familiar man (was he a man?) to his feet. They both stood, holding each other up, dripping blood into the snow beneath them.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes. Derek is a man. a maaaaaaaaanly man. you better recognize, foo'!


	5. Checking in with BAMF!Mom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corpsicles! Buttless Corpsicles!

Melissa had resigned herself to one of those nights when the first person arrived in the ER claiming hypothermia due to a horrible nightmare.  Sometimes in the ER you had a night when every crazy in town decided to visit. As her own world view on the definition of  a "bad full moon" had been changed drastically in the last few years, she'd merely patted the woman and applied heat. Her chart had mentioned a long acquaintance with the psychiatric department.

Then the first body came in and Melissa wondered if it was colder than she thought outside, for an admittedly elderly woman to have frozen solid in her home.

Then the second body, a tennis instructor in his forties and in excellent shape showed up in popsicle form. Once he'd been delivered to the morgue to await the ME's visit, she had snuck down to take a look at the man.

The morgue was empty of life, and she found herself depressed at how familiar it was to her now. Before her son's alternative lifestyle, she had only been there a few times. Now she found herself sneaking in more than any nurse should. She knew how long it took the ME's assistants to prep the incoming bodies and retreat to their office down the hall where they would finish their paperwork then return to playing poker for vending machine change.

The bodies were lying on the two metal slabs, covered in sheets and while Melissa had long grown as accustomed to mortality and gore as anyone could, she still found herself hesitating. She stood for a moment, hand hovering over the head of the nearest body, bracing herself for the sight while trying to convince herself that grown-ass women didn't get the heebie jeebies in the morgue at 4 am. Even though they totally did.

"Do it." She whispered to herself then grabbed the sheet, pulling it back to reveal the last man. He'd been good looking before his death, strong jaw, healthy blond waves, a nice tan. She wondered why all the good-looking men she met were sociopath werewolves, werewolf hunters, or workaholic single fathers married to their badges, or corpsicles.

She looked his body over quickly, seeing that he was in good shape and that he had no readily visible wounds. He was frozen solid, appearing to be asleep when it happened, but there were only a few old scars...she frowned, running a gloved fingertip over a long thin raised scar down the inside of his right forearm. A suicide attempt?

She picked up his chart and flipped through the medical records they'd found for Mr. Lawrence Forman. Back in his early twenties he'd been brought in for a suicide attempt, which had been followed by intensive psychiatric evaluations and admittance to the psychiatric hospital in the next county. It looked like he'd turned his life around since. She put the chart down and went back to poking around his body.

A few minutes later she noticed a bit of dark red sludge oozing from beneath the body onto the table. Frowning, she grabbed hold of the man and lifted, stared a moment, then let him lie flat again. When he'd come in he'd been wearing flannel pajamas and had been completely frozen so she hadn't seen it, but now that he was nude and thawing she was able to see that he was missing some bits.

"What happened to you?" She muttered as she moved to the 72 year old woman who had been found by her daughter-in-law when she'd gone to check on a strange noise. A quick check confirmed that the woman had the exact same injuries. Frozen solid with a large portion of posterior missing. Melissa pulled out her cell phone and blinked as she realized that she was already halfway through composing a text to Stiles.  She scowled to herself then deleted it. He was a kid, dammit.

She needed to make a call instead. But didn't want to be noisy, so she quickly looked over the woman's annoying thick chart for anything relevant and found something odd...she had also spent time in a mental hospital in Tucson before moving to Beacon Hills in 2001 and becoming a hypochondriac. Melissa checked the former Mrs. Mary Wagner's wrists and found matching horizontal scars, the kind of suicide attempt people tried when they saw too many movies and didn't really know how.

She covered the bodies again and left the morgue just as the ME arrived with a body bag. Another victim. She had a few more minutes before she would be missed from here break so she ducked down the silent hall outside the sleeping maternity ward and called the Sheriff's cell. It went to voicemail so she left a message asking him to call her asap.

Then, she called Stiles, because she was done kidding herself. Stiles' phone went straight to voicemail too. So she tried Scott...nothing there either. Were they all sleeping? She frowned at her phone then tried another number that was new to her cell.

Chris Argent had given her his number after he'd helped haul her out from under the nemeton-tree-thing that she hated thinking about. He'd told her that if she ever needed help  that she should call. He answered on the first ring.

"Melissa, are you alright?" He asked, sounding genuinely worried.

"I'm fine, but there are bodies showing up at the morgue with some worrying details. I tried the Sheriff but he's not answering, neither are our kids." she explained quickly. She made out a voice in the background.

"Isaac says that Cora Hale was going to go find you, is she there?" she was relieved that he was taking seriously.

"I haven't seen her. Did she drive here? When did she leave? When did the Hales get back?" More words from presumably Isaac.

"She left the Stilinski's place an hour ago in Derek's car...Look we'll head over to the hospital to meet you and try to follow her route. Don't let yourself be caught alone. Keep an eye on anyone who is asleep. Whatever it is, not everyone can see it. It attacked Allison in her sleep and only she could see anything at all. Look for anyone having trouble breathing or keeping warm."

"Got it. Do you know where the others are?" She asked, worried about her son. There was a sound then Isaac spoke into the phone.

"Stiles and Derek should be at Stiles' place now, Scott and the Sheriff went to check out a body Lydia found in the woods."

"The body just got here, why isn't the sheriff answering his phone?" She worried.

"I don't know...I'll keep trying him." Isaac assured her. "Just be careful?" The worry in his voice reminded her of the morning she woke to two exhausted boys passed out in her bedroom after "protecting" her while she slept. Her heart had enough trouble handling it when Scott did things like that, now she had two of the little monsters hanging around making her feel all melty and maternal.

"I will, I promise." He accepted that and said goodbye and she smiled briefly to herself as she headed back into the E.R.. She had work to do. And a big heap of worrying to do on the side.

 

Cora had no idea where she was, and she wasn't happy about it.

Mostly, because she was hanging upside down by her feet, bleeding into a big brass bowl.

She was still disoriented, but she vaguely remembered driving Derek's SUV towards the hospital to check on Scott's mother. Then...? She groaned, and clutched at her head as it spun. It didn't help that her body was spinning slowly as well. She hadn't felt so crappy since she'd been poisoned.

She tried to focus her attention on something, choosing her arms. They hurt badly so she let them fall into her sightline and stared at the neat bloody slices down the insides of her arms. They were healing too slowly and too much blood was already in that damn bowl. She turned her attention to where she was an realized she was dangling from a metal stand  set up in the middle of someone's living room. She frowned, having expected a dark scary lair or warehouse or something, but she was hanging there in the space between a coffee table and a television that was playing...Maury? Ew.

She was hit by the scent of something rotting and if combined with the blood loss and her aching head to make her start gagging.

"Hold on!" An urgent male voice demanded and a man dressed in a white jumpsuit rushed over and moved the bowl of blood to the coffee table then set a bucket down to catch her vomit.  When she was done heaving up her guts she tried to lift her head to look at him but she was shaking to hard and her eyes wouldn't focus.

"Oh good, it didn't get in your hair." The man realized happily. "Your Uncle wouldn't have appreciated the smell." She tried to speak but no sound came out. She tried to scream, but that didn't do much either.

"Smelllllssss goood." A creaking, hissing voice commented. "Sooo hungry...."

"Now, now, you know she isn't one of yours." The man scolded something out of sight. Her vision was going grey. She tried to call for help, call for Derek, but no words came. "She's mine."

 "She diessss." The other commented.

"Oh, no, this one is a werewolf. Like the ones you fought with. She'll heal if I'm careful. She'll be a renewable source for me." She heard movement but couldn't keep her eyes open. "I think she's about ready for a family reunion." Then she was out.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sure hope Cora gets that blood back somehow. She needs it for the whole...living thing...


	6. Triage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...Here lies a glimmer of Sterek like a mirage In The desert of this plot. Patience! More next chapter, I promise.

Scott was getting tired of having to make big decisions. For example: chase after a giant creature that slapped around two formidable werewolves like toys, or check on his unconscious-possibly dead-not moving best friend.

For some reason he remembered his Mother then, on a day he'd brought dinner to her then had time to actually eat with her in the cafeteria. She had been explaining why a three-year-old with a bloody head wound was being left in the waiting room while a man complaining of tightness in his chest was taken first. "Sometimes you have to stop thinking with your heart and just look at the situation clinically. As a mother, my first thought is to help the little boy, but that would be the wrong choice."

"Why?" Scott had asked, slurping on his chocolate shake.

"You look at the complaints. The kid had a cut that bled a lot, head wounds always do. All he needs is a few stitches and some love. The man, though...if we make him wait when we don't know what the problem is, then we risk it turning into something far worse than a crying baby. When you're pressed for time like that you have to listen to your head first." 

That had been years ago, before werewolves and monsters and druids. Before Stiles was hanging from Danny's shoulder looking so pale. He didn't know what was wrong with Stiles, but he knew that the damage was done. He didn't know what the monster would do, who could be hurt, and he had to make certain no one else would be killed. Stiles' dad and Danny and Derek would make sure his best friend would be taken care of. If he was already gone then Scott couldn't do anything.

So he ran. It was so much easier now to let the wolf in him take over, to let the change flow over him. Becoming an Alpha had been gradual, but he could still feel the differences. He was stronger, faster, his senses were sharper, and when he really ran, he was faster than he remembered Derek ever being. He loved running. It was calming and helped him center himself. Anchoring himself was harder these days, Allison wasn't so very soothing to think of anymore, not since she'd pulled away from him and leaned towards Isaac. So he was finding his anchor more and more these days in things like the feel of the wind as he ran or the sound of his breath in his ear, or sometimes thinking of his friends, of Stiles and Lydia, of Isaac and his Mom.

He growled a little to himself as he leaped over a backyard fence and raced after the creature. It took a moment before he registered Aiden on his tail, moving a little slower, but managing to stay on the trail. He hadn't expected help from the other Alpha. Ethan was the more reasonable, more personable of the two.

"Its heading back towards the preserve!" He realized suddenly and skid to a halt, sniffing and thinking. Aiden caught up.

"What's the plan?" He asked tensely.

"Keep chasing it, I'm going to try to cut it off before it gets to the trees." He decided and got a quick nod as he turned on his heel and took off. He ran hard, rounding the front of the house he'd been behind and then taking off full speed on all fours. It was still early and dark on a Sunday morning, no one would see him. Hopefully.

He made it around to the other side of the block and down to where the residential area bled into the woods that led up the mountain into the preserve. He couldn't see or smell the thing anymore.

He crouched in the street, waiting, watching, tense and hyperaware of every sound, scent, everything. He focused hard and heard the sound of Aiden's slightly growling breaths as he ran toward his position, but nothing else. By the time Aiden leapt the last fence in front of him, Scot already knew the thing was gone. "It disappeared, just gone, no scent, no tracks, nothing." Aiden said, eyes red with frustration.

"Lets go back, if it doubled back they'll need us." Scott decided and started to jog back with Aiden on his right and a little behind. Curious, Scott slowed a touch and Aiden slowed too, still not coming even with him. He sped up again and again Aiden matched the speed and position. Was he so well trained by Deucalion that such  deference was automatic? Would Ethan be the same?

"While we're alone..." Aiden spoke. "Hmm?" Scott looked to him. "Deucalion has been calling us every night this week."

"He has?"

"He was our Alpha...its hard to resist his call and we...we don't want to be what he made us anymore." His voice was halting. "Lydia said that she was talking to Stilinski and he said that you were able to resist your Alpha's call from the beginning. How?" 

Scott considered the mess they were in, the twins. They'd left their Alpha and would be omegas if they weren't Alphas themselves. Scott had worried at first that they might try to start their own pack, but they never made a move and Lydia had assured him she would say something if they did.

"Peter was murdering people, and he wanted me to kill my friends. It was hard, but I focused on the people I loved."

"If...if we joined your pack..." Scott slowed, giving him a hard look. "You're both Alphas."

"Strength wise, yeah, but we don't really like calling the shots, that's why we were so weak when Deucalion found us. We don't fool ourselves into thinking we can lead like Derek Hale did."

"I...I'll think about it and we'll talk when this is over." They rounded the last turn as saw an ambulance pulled up in front of Danny's house. Scott sped up again, feeling sick. Stiles... But then a loud voice set him at ease. "No, I'm serious, I really want to know! How did you figure it out? You just bump into each other and like...stick? Or did someone bash your heads together three-Stooges style and you just kept going?"

"Not now, Stilinski." Scott rounded the Ambulance and saw Ethan looking worried as he tried to wave Stiles quiet. The Paramedic, a lanky blonde woman, was checking Stiles' pupils while he sat on the back of the ambulance wrapped in a blanket. The Sheriff was just beyond Ethan speaking quietly to a bewildered Danny. And Derek? Scott looked around, then back at Stiles then saw him where he didn't expect him.

Derek was sitting on the gurney inside the Ambulance, wrapped in another blanket. Scott realized that Stiles was leaning back against his legs and the wolf had a hand on Stiles' shoulder. "I'm fine, alright. I really am. We're all fine." Stiles insisted loudly in a tone of voice Scott knew. He was trying to attract the paramedics' attention. But why?

"Stiles." Scott took a few steps forward and reached for him, suddenly overwhelmed by relief that his friend was alright. Stiles held up a hand though, blocking him and that was enough for him to understand, because the blanket shifted just enough that he saw Derek’s hand more clearly and the black lines traveling over it, which told him that Derek was pulling the pain from Stiles so he could act normal in front of the Paramedic. 

But why? Why not take the ride to the hospital? He looked up at Derek again and saw a pulse of neon blue in his eyes as he stared as Stiles.  There was something in his expression. Something…He frowned, but kept his mouth shut.  If Stiles was trying to draw attention away from the other man, than he would trust Stiles’ judgment. “Is he okay?”  He asked the Paramedic.

“He’s fine, no signs of concussion, although he’s certainly talking up a storm.”  The second paramedic returned from the front of the vehicle, answering.  “He should get an x-ray for those ribs though.” 

 “I will, I promise, just not now.”  Stiles insisted.

“It’s alright, we’ll make sure he gets in.  As long as his head looks okay.”  John broke into the conversation.  “We’ll bring him in ourselves.”  The two paramedics looked doubtful but they let themselves be sent away.  When they were gone Stiles slumped and when Scott grabbed at him to hold him steady, the scent of pain hit him.  Derek made a growling sound, eyes shifted as he stared at Stiles, reaching for him again.

“No, Derek. No more, you’re hurt too.”  Stiles waved him off.  “Scott can help me.”  And Scott did, shifting his grip so he could touch his friend’s hand and draw the pain from him. Derek relaxed then, but his eyes were still blue.

“What’s going on?”  Scott asked anxiously. “Why didn’t you go in the ambulance?”

 

 “Something’s wrong with Derek.”  Stiles said, leaning his weight on Scott and sounding exhausted. “He wouldn’t let go of me when the paramedics tried to load me up and he won’t talk. He got mad when Ethan tried to use his wolfy mojo on me.”

 

"He growled at me when I tried to take Stiles from him.”  John said, still offended. Scott looked worriedly at Derek. “Derek, what’s wrong?”  He asked, because why not? Derek shifted and made a whining sound, pawing at the side of his head like so many dogs Scott had seen at the vet.  He was in pain and couldn't tell them how or why.  Scott worried.  

“Ethan, take Stiles to the car.  We need to get him to the hospital.” He ordered, and thankfully Ethan didn’t argue, just accepted Stiles arm over his shoulder. Derek watched twitching, but didn’t protest. His eyes went back to Scott in his anxiety. Scott had an idea.

"Derek, were you protecting Stiles?”  Derek nodded quickly and whined again.  “Alright, Ethan is going to protect him now. And Danny and the Sheriff.”  At his nod, the others headed for the cruiser. Scott turned to Aiden, who was just…waiting for instructions. “Run the block a few times.  Make sure that thing is really gone. And howl if you need help.”  Aiden nodded and without another word, took off in a jog. 

Scott turned his full attention to Derek, standing helpless in the snow.  With the others gone, the distracting scents left and Scott could smell Derek more clearly.  He was in pain, and bleeding.  He looked around.  This wasn’t the best place for an exam. He waved Derek after him, and the other fell into step, limping slightly but not complaining as they walked back towards the Stilinski house. As he walked he fished out his phone, intending to call Deaton, but got sidetracked when he saw that his Mother had called. He called her back as quickly as he could push the button.

 It rang a few times before she answered. "Scott, are you alright?" She demanded immediately.

"Yeah, Mom, I'm fine. Stiles is hurt, he's on the way to you right now."

"Hurt how? Because there are bodies here, Scott. Something is going on." He demanded. "Something attacked him and Derek. Something's wrong with Derek, I'm trying to figure out what, but Stiles' dad is on his way to you-"

"I'll fill him in." She assured him. "There's another thing, Scott." She said with a worried sigh. "Cora never showed up here. Isaac and the Argents are looking for her, but so far nothing." Derek made a pained whining sound next to him, having heard her easily enough.

"It's alright, we'll find her." Scott said more for Derek's benefit. "Especially with the Argents looking, they're good at that stuff."

“I hope you’re right.” Melissa answered.  “There are already four bodies in the morgue from this thing, Scott.  All frozen to death with their back ends cut off.”

“I saw one of them with the Sheriff.” Scott told her. “There are these shadow people who climb on you when you’re sleeping and like…strangle and freeze you at the same time.  And there’s this big…monster…thing. I don’t know what it is, but I think they were together?  It beat Ethan, Derek, and Stiles pretty badly.”

“Another thing I noticed, I don't know if it means anything yet, but I checked the charts of the victims and all of them have recorded suicide attempts."

“No, no, that’s something.  Just…help Stiles when he gets there?” Scott didn’t like where that train of thought was going.

"Of course.  Be careful, sweetie.”

"Love you, Mom.”

“Love you, too.”  He hung up and waved Derek up the walkway towards the Stilinski’s front door then turned to look around at the pre-dawn neighborhood.  He listened hard to make sure Aiden wasn’t calling for him, then sighed and followed Derek inside.

 

“This is really not good.”  Isaac stated, standing on the side of the road, peering inside Derek’s empty SUV.  It was empty, but Isaac could smell blood. “Looks like she hit a spike strip, all tires have been shredded.”  Chris decided after rounding the SUV.

“I smell her blood.”  Isaac told the Argents.  Allison ran her fingers over claw marks on the passenger’s side of the SUV. 

“She fought back, but they won…”  She said, chewing her lip.

"I’m not seeing anything we can track…are you getting any scents you can use?”  Chris asked, coming to stand opposite Isaac.  The werewolf concentrated for a long moment.

“Just blood…Cora’s blood. And….bleach…and cold.”

“Cold?”

“Yeah…”  Isaac shook his head, feeling silly.  “Like the scent of something frozen.  It’s hard to explain…”  Chris nodded and waved Allison over and led them back to his own SUV.  Isaac’s cell rang and he stared at it a second as he always did, feeling warm.  Melissa had added him to her family plan. That thought still made him feel strange and fragile and happy. He shook it off though, Scott was calling.

“Isaac, did you find Cora?” Scott asked, straight to the point.

“No, we found her car, but the tires were shredded.  She’s been taken. Your Mom was trying to reach you.” He reported.

"I know, I spoke to her.  Is Chris there?”  Isaac passed his phone to Chris, but kept listening. “I’ve been trying to get a hold of Deaton, but he’s missing.  Whatever this thing is, it clawed Derek in the back of his head and there’s still a claw stuck in there…I can’t get it out.  Derek’s acting more wolf than person right now.” Isaac didn't like the sound of that.  

"Has he hurt anyone?" Chris asked in a low voice.

"No, but he almost wolfed out at the paramedics when they were looking at Stiles. He's listening to me, but I don't know how to fix him." Scott sounded anxious and Isaac felt his own anxiety notch-up because of it. Until Allison touched his shoulder and smiled at him. He took a deep breath and let it out, giving her a grateful look. She was getting good at spotting his moods.

"I hate to suggest it, but maybe Peter knows something?" Chris suggested with a resigned look. "He isn't answering his phone."

"Is that unusual for him?"

"Peter? He never misses a chance to comment on everything." Isaac pointed out.

"We'll go to Deaton's and see if we can send him to you- where are you?"

"The Stilinski's house, here, I'll text the address."

"Right, when we're done there we'll hunt down Peter. Do you know where he lives?"

"I do." Isaac said, getting an odd look from the hunters. He shrugged. "He's an ass hole, but he was pack when Derek was Alpha."

"We'll drop by, see if we can't at least get some information." Chris decided and ended the call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I had this and the next chapter as one, but it got too long and I decided I needed more time to traumatize everyone better.


	7. J'ai Peur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Mad Scientist type, very polite for a captor, but he hasn't given us a name." Deucalion answered her. Cora didn't like the fact that he could see her now. His brown eyes were mocking.
> 
> "If he were polite, he'd have removed the trash. They're starting to thaw and we all know that won't be kind to our noses." Peter argued.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...mild french ahead. And seriously. Who DOESN'T want to trap Peter and Deucalion in a room together?

 

Three days earlier...

Alan's Friday night was one of those utterly normal Friday nights that most often would be forgotten after a day or two. Nothing really happened of note. Scott came in for a few hours, then left, Deaton spent an hour getting his paperwork in order for the day, then locked up and stepped outside. As he locked up, a snowflake fell on the back of his hand. Puzzled, he looked up at the sky. Snow? Funny he hadn't felt it coming. There'd been no change in the air, no feel of an approaching change in weather.  A sound had him turning in place to see a van pull up in front of him. A man jumped out, tall, well groomed, dark combed hair and a tidy button up and slacks.

"Please don't leave! My dog was just hit by a car, please I need your help!" He didn't wait for an answer but threw open the side door to the van. Alan stepped forward, ready to see a dog and instead saw his sister, tied and gagged with a bloody cloth, trying to warn him with her eyes. Before he could turn he felt a hard jab to his ribs. His body jolted and he fell over on top of his sister as she yelled behind her gag.

"Two down, three to go!" The man said cheerfully as he pulled the trigger on the Taser a few more times. Every muscle in Alan's body clenched angrily until the man leaned over and injected him with something, then everything went black. When Alan woke again he was lying on his back with his head in his sister’s lap. "Alan..." She whispered, touching his brow gently. That worried him more than anything, because he hadn't gotten so much as a hug out of his sister in years.  He slowly pushed himself upright, his head pounding and every muscle aching. He groaned as he resettled against the wall she was leaning on and looked around.

It was a bedroom. Two metal frame beds against opposite walls were the only furniture and chains extended from the walls on either side with heavy metal cuffs at the end of them. There were three total and merely a glance at the runes carved into them told him that they were meant to contain great strength.

"What do we know?" He asked his sister. She leaned her head on his shoulder.

"Dunno...my head. He hit me...I can't think." She mumbled, words slurred together. Worried he turned sideways and took hold of her face, looking into her eyes. There was blood seeping into her right eye from the cornea and they were glassy and unfocused. He pulled her back down to his shoulder and held her there with an arm around her shoulder. There was nothing he could do about it now in this place.

"We'll be fine." He told her. "Did he say anything to you?"

"No...I...I hit him so he hit me back." She managed after struggling for focus.

"I'm going to look around. Stay still." He told her and pushed himself to his feet, groaning again as he moved sorely around the room, testing the single window, well away from the furthest reach of the chains. It was boarded shut from the outside. He moved on, to the door, finding it locked. He listened carefully for a moment, but heard nothing. He stepped back, looking at his sister, looking so small and frail, and not at all like the person she was now.

"I am going to try kicking the door down." He told her. She nodded gathering herself up, using the wall to get her on her feet. He turned back to the door, stepped back, and then kicked hard, right by the handle. His boot clanged off of it and he fell back, gritting his teeth.

"Steel reinforced." He hissed then moved close to the door again, listening to see if his efforts had drawn any attention. There was nothing. He then took a look at the door hinges and the handle itself. Heavy steel painted like copper. He belatedly searched himself but his pockets had been emptied. They left him a piece of gum. That was nice.

He returned his attention to the door as a wave of invisible power rolled through the air and over him. Every hair on his arms and neck stood straight up and Marin made a tiny sound. Someone was doing something major and they were tapping into the reawakened Nemeton to do it. He moved back to his sister and slid down the wall with her so they were both huddled in the corner together. He needed to concentrate and if he had his arm around her, they could share energy.

"J'ai peur." She whispered. He wondered what the man had hit in her head to make her say things she hadn't uttered since she was a small child. To show weakness to her older brother whom she scorned.

He squeezed her again. "Je sais."

He closed his eyes and concentrated on the Nemeton's power running over them and followed it, trying to feel out the man calling it from the next room. After a few minutes he'd decided that the man was calling the Snow and cold. But why?

  The door opened suddenly a minute later and Alan opened his eyes to see the man from before. So very ordinary looking. He stood in the doorway studying them for a moment then raised a gun the moment he saw Alan tense as if to rise.

"Who are you?" Alan asked.

"That doesn't matter." The man said and shrugged. "I thought I would give you fair warning. For my next summoning I'll need your blood. All of it. You have until the storm quickens and then I will kill both if you. No one is looking for you. Your werewolf pack is currently eating pancakes, completely oblivious. You will die. Now is the time to say goodbye." This information was delivered calm, cool, just statement of fact. Alan had to swallow against the cold that filled him before he could speak.

"Can you tell us why?" The man studied him for a moment.

"I suppose it can't hurt." He didn't lower the gun, it stayed pointed at Alan's face. "It's simple really. Once I have completed the castings I have planned for today, every unnatural death that happens within this valley will add to my power."

"Why do you need power?" Alan asked. The man grinned as if thrilled with the question.

"Well it’s all just so boring, you know? Boring and pointless. I can make it interesting."

"What exactly are you going to make 'interesting'?" Alan asked him.

"Everything!" He said with a sparkle in his eye and a bounce on his toes. He glanced at his watch and Deaton was ten feet across the floor before the gun went off. Deaton staggered and fell onto his front. Marin was yelling his name. "Pfft. Did you really think that would work?" The man scoffed and left, shutting the door behind him.

"It was a while before Alan could convince his body to move again. It was the sound of Marin sobbing that got him moving. He pushed himself up and over onto his back so he could look down at the rapidly spreading red in the middle of his chest. If was getting hard to breathe...a collapsed lung. He forced himself to roll over again and crawl to Marin where she sobbed, his broken little sister.

"Mari, I need your help." Alan rasped at her.  After a moment she nodded and he grabbed her hand in his and pressed it to the blood on his chest.  “We have to keep him from harnessing the Nemeton alone.”  He whispered.  She nodded, but watched him for direction, her eyes so wide and bright with tears.  She looked like the little girl that once followed him everywhere.  Now she would follow him to one last place.  “Read the runes for me.”  He whispered then gagged on his own blood a little before moving his bloodstained fingers in his hand and using them to draw on the wall behind her. As he drew they read them together like they had when Mother had taught them both.  They began life together, him leading and her following, hand in hand.  Now they would end it.  Hand in hand.

 

Sunday

Cora woke suddenly and violently, sitting up straight, gasping for a breath. After a moment her mind caught up to her instincts and she started to think.

"Nice of you to join us, niece." A familiar voice drawled. She blinked quickly, shaking her head to clear the fuzz around her vision. She was on a bed, a simple metal framed twin sized thing with bright blue sheets. At the foot of the bed sat her uncle, looking more ragged than she'd ever seen him. "If you could do me a favor and keep breathing, that would be swell. Resuscitating you every ten minutes is getting a little...stressful."

"You could just...I don't know, let her die? He needs a virgin werewolf and she's the only one in Beacon Hills." Another voice suggested. Cora's head snapped over and saw Deucalion himself sitting on an identical bed on the other side of the decent sized room.  On the white wall next to him was a smear of dried blood as if someone had tried to scrub it out and only manage to make it worse.

"You and I both know he'd just find someone's little girl and force you to bite her. I'd rather have a wolf I know and that can fight and won't cry all damn night."

"What the fuck is going on?!" Cora broke into the bickering. Peter raised a brow at her, chiding her for her rudeness.

"We've been wolf-napped, Cora. And you've been drained of all your apparently useful blood. You really should think about sleeping with one of those teenage boys that are around all the time. Being a virgin is so dangerous of late. How about Stiles? Kill two birds with one stone."

"Who took us?" She asked, realizing that Derek's habit of just ignoring Peter when he said annoying things was probably best.

"Mad Scientist type, very polite for a captor, but he hasn't given us a name." Deucalion answered her. Cora didn't like the fact that he could see her now. His brown eyes were mocking.

"If he were polite, he'd have removed the trash. They're starting to thaw and we all know that won't be kind to our noses." Peter argued.

"Trash?" Cora mumbled, confused. Peter pointed to the other side of the room from Deucalion. There was a bathroom attached, they were in a master bedroom of a sort. She just saw bathroom for a moment before her eyes focused on the vanity mirror and the reflection that let her see inside the bathroom door. There were dark figures inside.  She squinted as her eyes made sense of what she was seeing. Hanging somehow inside the shower, their dark skin pale with death, eyes blank and glazed, were Deaton and Morrell. Cora sucked in a breath, suddenly dizzy.

"Oh dear, we've upset her." Deucalion's pleasant tone started to fuzz. She was so dizzy.

"No, I think she's just going to pass out again. She is missing a great deal of blood." Peter said and reached out, grabbing her ankles and pulling her flat. She lay down, watching the ceiling spin and her vision darkening. She tried to focus her eyes again as Peter leaned over her, his hand smoothing back her hair, his voice a low rumble that made no sense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a whole big pile of Stiles and Derek next to make up for...what I just did. Now I'm going to go be ashamed of myself for a while.


	8. Brain Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I..." Stiles stumbled, giving the still silent Derek an odd look. "The pain was back until Grumpy Face decided to be nice..." She looked down at the black lines draining into Derek's hand. 
> 
> "Derek, stop." She ordered. Derek growled at her until she gave him her boss face. After a moment he lowered his eyes and let go of Stiles. "Thank you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry, a little delayed on this one. stupid reality.
> 
> Anyhooo, Here's some Derek and Stiles and BAMF!Mom.

“Just, Stay with me, Derek.  Follow me, okay?”  Scott said, making careful eye contact with the older man.  He nodded absently and fell in behind Scott as they entered the hospital.  Scott knew his way around from countless visits before, which allowed him to navigate through the chaos of the E.R. to his Mother’s station.  There he saw her and Sheriff Stilinski.

“Scott.”  His mother gave him a startlingly tight hug when she saw him then a narrow look at Derek.  “Let’s put him in the room with Stiles.  I don’t want anyone interrupting us and he’s already been cleared for the time being.”  She decided and led the way.  Scott went to Stiles first, to reassure himself that his friend was alright.  “He’s out.  He’s on some decent pain killers.”  Melissa assured him.  “And I turned up his heart monitor so I’ll hear if a shadow tries to grab him again.” 

“Good. I don’t want him left alone though.”  Scott said then felt a little awkward just…commanding his mother like that. He blinked when Derek passed him to lean over the bed and sniff at Stiles, then poke tentatively at his hand where it lay at his side.  “Derek?” The werewolf turned and tilted his head at Scott inquisitively. 

“Here, sit down.”  Melissa prompted him but he just stared at Scott.

“Uh…do what she says, Derek.  She’s going to help you.”  Derek then turned and moved to where Melissa waited and sat.

“Is he dangerous like this?”  John asked as Melissa put on fresh gloves and started to clean the dried blood from the back of Derek’s head.

“He does what I tell him.  You saw him before.  How protective he was of Stiles.  I think he remembered us telling him to protect him. If he's that obedient, That’s good enough for me.”  Scott said with a shrug.  Derek whined when Melissa touched the open wound in his scalp.  She pat his shoulder and looked at Scott. He came over and clamped his hand on Derek’s shoulder. 

“Hold still, sweetheart.”  She mumbled to the beta then tightened her forceps on the protruding edge of the claw. Derek made a horrible sound and Scott found himself standing in front if him, hands on his shoulders. "Damn it's really in there..." Melissa muttered and started wiping the area clean to get a better look. "Scott, hold his head for me, I'm going to have to put some muscle into this..." She hesitated. "You're positive he'll heal as soon as it's out? I hate what this tugging can be doing to what's inside." She asked, studying her son's face for signs of dishonesty or uncertainty.

"Unless he's poisoned, but I couldn't smell anything strange with his blood..." Scott assured her nervously. Melissa nodded thoughtfully and got a grip on the forceps again. Scott held Derek's head between his hands, trying not to see the loom of trust in Derek's oddly innocent gaze. He hadn't exactly been nice to him in the past and now, running on pure instinct, the older wolf was looking to him automatically. He was learning that there was a lot to being a True Alpha and this was an aspect he didn't particularly like.

Melissa braced against Scott's hand this time when she pulled, but still to no avail. After a moment she looked to Scott.

"You try, I've got nothing."

He frowned but took her place. He had no more luck even with his greater strength. Melissa stood, scowling darkly at the back of Derek's head.

"We're going to have to cut it out." She decided. "I'd need a doctor to get a hold of a bone saw."

"Deaton can do it. I have the Argents and Isaac looking for him." Scott decided, releasing Derek and checking his silent phone anxiously.

"I have to get back out where people can see me, these shadows are making a lot of work for me." John warned. Melissa nodded absently. She had already shown him the bodies and told him everything she'd found out. "I really thought the suicide angle was something, but then why would they go after Scott and Stiles..." He muttered the last part more to himself, but Melissa saw a tiny quiver in Scott's gaze.

"Scott." She just had to say his name and he was backing up, hands up defensively.

"Not now, Mom." Her eyes narrowed at him but he waved to the curiously watching Derek. "I'm going to check in with everyone and see if they found Deaton. Derek, stay here in this room. Guard Stiles. Listen to my mom. Don't bite the nurses." he ordered.

"You're leaving him here?" John didn't know if he liked that.

"He'll keep them safe." Scott said with a shrug. "I won't be gone long." John studied Derek for a long time, his stare making the beta uncomfortable. Melissa, thought it prudent to test his obedience while Scott was still there.

"Derek, please go sit next to Stiles." She said and pointed in the direction of the left side of Stiles' bed.

Derek stood and walked over to the spot, and finding no chair, just sat on the floor. They all stared at him, surprised, until Melissa looked at her son. "Maybe you should hurry." He nodded, wide-eyed, and preceded the Sheriff out the door. Melissa grabbed a chair and moved it over. "Derek, sit here and watch over Stiles for me." He got up and sat in the chair then fixed his eyes on the sleeping boy. "Thank you. Call me if you need help." She said and couldn't help patting his shoulder, he looked so...lost.

 

Stiles woke slowly, responding to a persist ache in his, well...in his everything. He just plain hurt. And he was in the hospital still. Yay. He groaned slightly as he took in the room, darkened for sleep, curtain pulled to block light from the hall. He glanced to the right and startled painfully, making an undignified whimper. Derek was sitting there in the dark staring at him with red glowing eyes. 

"Holy shit, Derek, what the hell are you doing?!" He demanded, hitting the button to call a nurse a few times. Derek just tilted his head and sniffed. Then frowned and leaned over, putting his hand on Stiles' arm. He held on when Stiles tried to jerk free, making him curse, but then calmed as the pain vanished. Derek was taking it away. A second later Melissa slipped around the curtain.

"There you are, Stiles, how are you feeling?" She asked, checking the machines then frowning at Derek.

"I..." Stiles stumbled, giving the still silent Derek an odd look. "The pain was back until Grumpy Face decided to be nice..." She looked down at the black lines draining into Derek's hand.

"Derek, stop." She ordered. Derek growled at her until she gave him her boss face. After a moment he lowered his eyes and let go of Stiles. "Thank you."

"Is he still acting weird?" Stiles asked, puzzled.

"There's a monster claw stuck in his brain. We can't get it out so Scott and the Argents are looking for Deaton so we can use his equipment to cut it out." Stiles winced at the thought and the vivid memory of the last time he encountered Derek and a saw at Deaton's. "They can't find the vet though, he's missing."

Derek made a whining sound and looked between them, worry in his wide green-blue eyes and formidable eyebrows. "What?" Stiles asked him but just got another whine.

"I don't think he can speak. He's just instinct, I don't know. He listens to Scott, and Scott told him to listen to me and he listens too well. He does exactly what I say. Scott told him to protect you and he hasn't left your side since." Melissa sounded exasperated. "He only disobeys if I tell him to leave the room." As she spoke she was checking Stiles over, so casual and automatic in her job that Stiles hardly noticed her.

"Derek, what is it? Did Timmy fall down the well?" Stiles asked as Derek whined again. Melissa smacked his arm for being a little shit to the injured and jumped back as Derek was suddenly between her and Stiles, snarling fangs and red eyes.

"Woah, Derek, calm down, I wasn't hurting him." She said quickly, hands up as she stumbled back against the curtain.

"Derek, stop!" Stiles protested and reach out painfully to grab at the back of the werewolf's shirt. Derek glanced back at him and scowled extra hard as he pushed Stiles back into bed and started draining the pain from him.

Melissa took a tentative step forward and his head whipped around to snarl at her. She retreated again, eyes wide. "Derek, come on, I totally deserved to get smacked." Stiles chided and pushed at the big hand clamped on his arm. "Stop with the pain thing, you need your energy for your brain damage, man."

There was a sudden commotion from outside the room and Melissa stepped out then popped her head back in. "Stiles, something's up. Stay here. Derek, don't leave him." Then she was gone. Derek let out a gusty sigh and dropped his head and shoulders to the bed on top if Stiles hand, like an exasperated and tired dog. Stiles stared, dog jokes suddenly losing their appeal. Something was seriously wrong with Derek Hale.

He wriggled his hand free from beneath him as he butted his spiky black hair into Stiles leg. He touched his hair lightly, moving the blood-matted hair to see a black protrusion. He winced in sympathy. Derek was a dick, but no one deserved to have their brains poked by a monster.

"This is what you get for being so happy yesterday. I told you this would happen." Stiles couldn't bring himself to protest when Derek turned his head to butt against his hand like a dog wanting its ears scratched. "Don't worry, we'll fix you. Brain damage is nothing when you're a werewolf, right?" Derek just sighed again and snuffled at the sheets.

 

Lydia was seriously considering bursting into tears, and the urge to cry (a pointless exercise in non-productive emotion) was pissing her the fuck off.

This time, when she'd gone wandering she'd ended up in the parking lot of a strip mall not fifty feet from the video store where she’d first seen Peter Hale almost an eternity ago. And now?  Now it was early in the morning and there were bodies strewn around her outside the small New Life Church. 

They ranged in ages from 20-60, at least 15 of them.  All frozen and missing their rear ends, slumped over in piles as if they’d been lazily tossed aside when their killer tired of them, snow already starting to land on them.  Giving them an oddly glazed look.  If she ate donuts, she would have quit after seeing this. 

“Did…did you mean to come here?”  Danny was still confused as shit as he stood a few feet away, staring at her as if determined not to look down at the bodies again.  His phone was limp in his hand after calling 911. 

She had decided that after Stiles was safely at the hospital, that it was time for her to tell him as much as she could, because Lydia knew how frightening it was to be half in the dark and half in the even more frightening darkness.

So she had taken Danny on a drive and had talked. She had told him everything she knew, through interrogating Stiles and Scott, through her own brilliance and Jackson's skewed point of view. She knew how terrifying not knowing could be. She'd even told him what the Darach had called her and he'd been just as eager to investigate what that meant as Stiles.

The part he was still having trouble with was the part where Ethan and Aiden had basically murdered Boyd, and were guilty of kidnapping, assault and other terrible things. She explained how they had stepped back from following Deucalion and had been behaving now, but she knew the doubts he now harbored. She'd been ignoring her own whenever she kissed Aiden for a while.

When Danny was sitting, staring into space and processing, she'd parked and turned off the car and realized with cold dread that she didn't know why she had driven there and her stomach clenched with horror as she fumbled her phone out. She hesitated. Her first instinct now was to call Stiles. But Stiles had his own problems. She chewed her lip and texted him anyhow to avoid his getting angry. As much as she liked to show everyone how few fucks she gave, Stiles worried her when he was mad. When Stiles was mad he got resourceful.

She glanced at Danny, who was still lost in thought, then called Scott. She got his voicemail, which was really irritating. "Scott-" Her voice was strangled. She cleared it and tried again. "Scott, it happened again." She managed then told him where she was before hanging up and looking to Danny.

"We have to get out if the car."

"Why?" He was puzzled, finally taking notice of their surroundings.

"Because I don't remember driving here and that means there's another body for me to find and I can't do it alone. Not again." She shuddered, trying to push back the memory of a pool at night and a puddle of blood.

Wide-eyed, Danny got out of the car when she did and walked with her the few feet it took for them to realize that there were bodies under the snow.

She didn't resist when he grabbed her hand with his cold shaking fingers while his other hand dialled 911.


	9. "Insanity has its perks, I guess."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter didn't hate his family. Brief bouts of homicidal werewolf rage aside, he didn't generally fantasize about killing them. Hell, he'd taken bloody revenge for their murders. That being said. He kind of wanted to strangle his niece.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the lag. I wrote a butt-ton in the interim though. I just need to chapter it and feel guilty about it and then maybe change it to make it less terrible. Maybe.
> 
> Yeah.   I [Tumblr](http://www.tumblr.com/blog/doomthatimpends).

Peter didn’t _hate_ his family. Brief bouts of homicidal werewolf rage aside, he didn't generally fantasize about killing them. Hell, he'd taken bloody revenge for their murders. That being said. He kind of wanted to strangle his niece.

"Sit down, you're accomplishing nothing and your insufferable whining is making me clench my jaw." Deucalion spoke tensely before Peter got the chance.

"Fuck you." Cora growled and yanked at the chain around her ankle again.

"Language, Cora, really..." Peter chided. He sensed Deucalion moving and was in motion before a conscious decision could be made. He shoved his oblivious niece behind him and snarled at the Alpha that was still swiping at the space she'd been in with his extended claws. The Alpha snarled at him and he felt Cora recover from her surprise and step up to his back, adding her own snarl to Peters.

There was a tense moment, while Peter waited for Deucalion to decide if he wanted them dead more than he wanted allies for their eventually fight for their lives. To his relief, the Alpha merely growled again and relaxed, moving casually back to the bed he'd lunged from. Peter straightened and backed off slowly, nudging Cora back to their side of the room.

"Maybe sit quietly for a bit, darling?" He suggested to her evenly as he sat against the bedframe of their bed. He watched her fighting her temper back and considering her options, then he saw her switch from a frustrated wolf in a cage to a scared teenage girl. He was surprised when she climbed onto the bed beside him and pulled her knees up under her chin then let her whole body tilt and lean against him. "I don't think I can do this again." She mumbled in a small voice that prompted memories of the crazy little girl that used to hide in his closet whenever she played hide and seek with her siblings. He carefully lowered his arm around her shoulders, wary of claws then relaxed when she just rested her head on his shoulder. She stank of fear. And her Mother. Family. He rubbed his nose against her hair and let himself think about Derek, so annoyingly like his Father.

Derek wouldn't be able to find them on his own. Scott, however. He frowned a little at the pride he felt when he thought of the newly realized Alpha. He'd created that...he didn't generally create. He was better at taking things apart, seeing how they work and how best to take advantage of what things broke down to. This was something new to him. He'd created something amazing and that was...interesting.

"Scott will find us." He whispered to Cora, petting her hair lightly. "Scott is direct and loud. A perfect distraction. We need to be strong enough to fight our way out while he's making noise."

"Don't..." She hesitated. "Don't leave me behind?" She asked. He frowned to himself. If he promised like she wanted, she would hear the lie easily. If he refused she would never trust him and he might need her trust.

"If our host decides to kill him, there's hardly anything either of you can do about it." Deucalion commented, all trace of his earlier rage abated. "He’s more than capable of subduing us all, as we've seen."

"I don't like him." Cora decided, scowling at the alpha.

"I can't see him lasting much longer." Peter drawled and sniffed at her hair again. "You smelled better when you were younger. More like a Hale." he grumbled.

"You smell like a zombie." She retorted and growled a bit to herself under her breath. "And too much cologne."

"Well you're hardly my target audience, Cora." She rolled her eyes and yawned. "Take a nap. I'll watch." She leaned her head back to look at him a long moment as if trying to decide how far she could trust him.

"Why did you kill Laura?" She asked point blank. He stared back at her, blue eyes steady.

"I was the wolf and the wolf needed her strength. It would have happened to any Alpha I caught wind of."

"But it was Laura."

"Yes." She contemplated his answer for a while. "Mom used to say that if you spent too much time as a wolf, you got cold, you forgot how to be human." She chewed her lip a few seconds then went on. "Derek thinks that the fire burnt your humanity out, that it broke the part of your brain that felt and that you're a sociopath now."

"Fair enough."

"That's bullshit. Derek is wrong. I think that even if that was true you'd had come back whole again from the dead." She was so sure of herself now. "I think you're a coward. You hid in the wolf until you couldn't feel anymore because you couldn't deal with losing us and I think that if you really wanted, you could care again."

"If that were true, why would I ever give up this...clarity?" Peter was curious. He hadn't realized his little niece had put so much thought into it.

"Mom also said that when wolves took over and made you cold, it made you weak. Alphas are strong because they protect others, like McCall. You say you're weak now because you're a zombie. I say you're weak now because you have nothing to fight for."

Deucalion snorted derisively. "If that were so, dear Cora, than how is it that I have become so very powerful? It wasn't rainbows and puppy dogs that gave me my strength. It was slaughter."

"Insanity has its perks, I guess." She shrugged. "Scott and Derek still beat you." Deucalion rolled his eyes. Then closed them, pretending to go to sleep.

"Don't be naive, Cora. The power of love isn't going to change anyone's fundamental nature. We're all just working with what was already there below the surface."

"So you never cared about Mom?"

"I didn't say that. I merely care more for myself than for ghosts and a few little shits that think I should do whatever they want out of nostalgia for a family long dead."

"Then why did you used to pull us up the hill on our sled? How did that benefit you?" She asked, eyes angry.  He was thrown. He hadn't thought of that in years. "Whatever. I don't trust either of you enough to sleep anyhow." She muttered and tugged free of him, crawling to the foot of the bed and huddling there instead.

He watched her, any thought back to the last time he'd dragged a sledful of shrieking, laughing children up to the top of the sledding hill on the preserve and sent them flying down as fast as Laura could talk him into. p>

The memories made him feel odd, uneasy, like suddenly remembering that there was something important he was forgetting, but he didn't know what. So he shrugged it off and went back to idly studying Deucalion for weaknesses while Deucalion pretended to sleep.

 

When Derek fell asleep right there, bent over Stiles' bedside with his face pressed into his leg, Stiles was relieved. He didn't know how to react to this Derek as a wolf, Derek. But when Derek started to twitch and growl in his sleep, it became so much more awkward.

"Derek?" He poked at the older man's cheek. "Time to wake up. Your whimpering gives me confused ‘friendly' thoughts and I don't want you to claw my face off later for my momentary lapse in apathy." Derek shuddered and opened his eyes to look at him.

His eyes were burning neon blue, but he didn't look angry. He looked confused. His teeth sharpened and the hair travelled down his face in the usual wolverine style that always secretly amused Stiles.

"Hey, hey, no shifting, no wolves in the hospital!" He protested in an anxious whisper. He hit the call button, hoping Melissa was watching, but threw a blanket over Derek's head just in case.

"Stiles? What are you-" Melissa frowned at the blanketed lump that probably looked all kinds of inappropriate bent over Stiles. When he noticed he flushed before whipping the blanket back off the bewildered werewolf.

"He's shifting!"

"Derek, stop changing." She ordered him. He made a pitiful sound and Stiles' eyes widened when the fur started to travel across his cheeks, and it wasn't sideburns...it was fur. "Derek, what are you-" She looked accusingly at Stiles. "No one said he could be a real wolf!"

"I didn't know! We've never seen it! It’s supposed to be rare, but then his Mom could do it..." Stiles flinched when Derek's body convulsed and he made a wet cracking sound inside.

"Help him!" Melissa demanded.

"How?!" Stiles stumbled out of the bed, kneeling beside Derek where he huddled, rapidly becoming something new.

Melissa scrambled to shut the door and secure the curtain when Derek's pained whimpering grew too loud.

There was a sudden heave and Derek was gone leaving a huge black furred wolf in his place. "Derek?" the wolf shook off the remnants of his shredded clothes, then ducked his head to paw at the back of his head.

"The claw!" Melissa lunged forward to try and stop him from making the injury worse, but before she reached him he yelped and the claw just slid free and fell to the floor wet with blood and venom.

"It’s out!" Stiles scrambled to pull the wolf's head down to check the wound. "It's healing." Melissa stepped forward to get her own look and got a growl.

Stiles then realized that he'd manhandled a giant wolf's head under his arm so he could use both hands to pull the thick black fur out of the way and froze. But Derek didn't pull free. He shifted his weight a little to kick his jeans off his back right leg then dropped to lay across Stiles' knees.

"Uh...Derek? You still...you?" He asked anxiously. The wolf's ears flicked and he shot Melissa a wary look when she shifted on her feet, then he just closed his eyes and went to sleep.

"Well we can't keep him here. I don't think I can laugh him off as a service animal!" Melissa protested.

"We have to get out of here. Make sure no one’s coming." Stiles ordered and struggled from beneath the annoyed wolf. She looked doubtful but nodded and stepped out.

Stiles grumbled under his breath as he dressed, wincing even past the pain relievers as he moved in the wrong way while Derek watched him, puzzled, but still vacant in a way that told Stiles that real Derek still wasn't home. "I guess I'm lucky you aren't hungry?" He said, wondering why as he zipped up his sweatshirt then shrugged into his jacket.

Derek just whined pitifully and put his head on his paws, looking exhausted.

"We're going, come on, get up. We have to sneak out." Derek just looked at him. Stiles pushed the curtain back and waved for him to come on. No dice. The huge wolf just stared at him. "Dude, if you have to be a giant wolf, why can't you be an awesome obedient one like Ghost?" He demanded.

Derek sighed and closed his eyes. "Not funny, Derek. We have to-" Derek's head flew up then he was on his feet, eyes blazing bright blue. A second later there was the sound of a scream and yelling. Then gunshots. Stiles lunged for the door as Melissa flung it open.

"There's a man in the E.R. Shooting people." She told him, out of breath. "We have to get everyone out of here." Derek let out a low loud growl, lips curling back to show his massive fangs. He was staring intently at the door. They all jumped as another gunshot came from very nearby.

"Melissa McCall! You have thirty seconds to join me here or I'll continue shooting your patients!" A loud male voice called out. "Alone, mind you. I see one of your son's werewolves I'll put a bullet in this nurse's, uh, what's your name? Elaine? -in Elaine's head!"

Stiles watched Melissa's thoughts travel over her face and didn't even bother to protest. He knew better. "Get him out of here and go find your dad. This has to be related." She ordered then smiled when he grabbed at her reflexively. She hugged him hard enough for his ribs to hurt and for Derek to growl at her again. "Tell Scott to do what he has to." She said and was gone out the door. Stiles waited until he heard Melissa announce herself the. Crept around the door frame to peer out. He wasn't losing this chance to see the shooter.

He narrowly missed being seen as the man holding a gun pointed at Melissa as she slowly moved toward him. He backed up so fast he fell, jarring every bruised bone and muscle in his body. It inspired a rather pitiful sound and tears to jump to his eyes.

When he blinked them clear, he looked up to see Derek stepping over him, growling loudly. The man stood in the doorway looking at them as if curious, Melissa's arm in his right hand, the gun in his left pointed over Derek's head at Stiles.

"You...you are one of the ones that gave up." The man said, tilting his head curiously. "The shadows have been trying to get you before my friends...yet you live. Curious."

"What do you mean gave up?" Melissa demanded. "You have me, just leave him."

"Oh you didn't know? The shadows only attack those who have tried to kill themselves and failed, like your son and this one...Stiles Stilinski..."

"I didn't fail, you asshole. I just came back to life when I was done." Stiles snapped defensively, painfully hauling himself up by gripping Derek's fur. Derek was too busy growling at the man to react. "Who are you? What do you want?"

"I don't have time for questions just now and I don't need you coming in at the last minute when it's inconvenient for me." He said in a reasonable tone and shot him in the chest.

Melissa screamed and Derek launched himself at the man then rebounded, having hit...something? Stiles didn't see. He was busy clutching reflexively at the red fountaining from his front. His head spun and rushed and slowed and his first thought was that he was having a panic attack, but hitting the floor knocked that clear out of his head. When he looked up again the man and Melissa were gone and Derek was staggering to his feet and turning to whine and paw at Stiles' side. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh no she di'n't!


	10. I'm Hungry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott needed to charge his phone.
> 
> Honestly, it wasn't his fault. He'd been at Stiles' all night and his charger was at home and his battery was crap anyhow. I mean he'd only watched homicidal llamas on YouTube for a few minutes before bed. Isaac wanted to see them!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG THEY'RE ALL DEAD!!! EVERYONE'S DEAD! WHAT HAVE I DOOOONNNNEEEE?!?!?! or not.

Scott needed to charge his phone.

Honestly, it wasn't his fault. He'd been at Stiles' all night and his charger was at home and his battery was crap anyhow. I mean he'd only watched homicidal llamas on YouTube for a few minutes before bed. Isaac wanted to see them!

He'd left Isaac with the Argents after they'd found no sign of Deaton at home or at his office, then found signs of a violent bloody struggle at Peter's apartment downtown. Chris was taking Allison to research and arm up for whatever had attacked Stiles and Derek and Scott had sent Isaac to watch their backs.

Isaac had made him promise to get his own backup and he couldn't do that without a phone, so he stopped at home and pelted upstairs to plug his phone in. Once it was on he was bombarded with messages. He was still anxiously listening to them when there was a knock on the front door. Scott jogged downstairs and was reaching for the door knob when it was slammed into him and knocked him clear across the entry hall and onto the stairs.

When he threw the splintered door off himself he spotted his attacker standing in the doorway. It was hunched over to fit, emaciated flaky white flesh dull in the hall light, stringy hair and rot making him flinch back as it hissed.

Scott crouched, ready to lunge, shifting and growling a warning but the thing cackled cheerfully at him. It was female, he could see now that he had more than the fleeting glimpse of before. Hideously sagging breasts rested on it's oddly distended stomach and the tattered loin cloth revealed nothing male and everything disgusting.

"Not here to fight, Alpha." it's voice rattled and creaked like a rusty screen door. "Here to give a message!"

"What message?" Scott demanded, trying to figure out how he would duck past those claws and still score a hit with his own once he lunged. "Who are you?"

"We are the starved onesss...we were brought here to feeeed." the last word was hissed in a reverent tone that ended with a slurp as if she drooled just to think of it. Scott fought back a shiver.

"Feed on what? Who brought you?"

"We _feeeed_ on the ones who failed." She grinned at him, shark crooked teeth dripping with slobber. "Like you...you failed."

"Failed what?" He wasn't sure why she was answering his questions, but he wasn't going to miss the opportunity.

"To die..." She shrugged. "You have the dark, the stink of death in you, yet you live." She licked her lips with a rubbery grey tongue and leaned forward a little, sniffing at him. He snarled a warning at her as his skin tried to crawl off him. She cackled at his threat but made no real move forward.

"You're killing people that have tried to kill themselves?" He jumped to the only conclusion he could based on what he'd heard.

"Those who have failed." She hissed with a happy bob of her head.

"Who brought you here? What are the shadows?"

"They are those who were honorable. Those who hungered in life. They hunger now in death." She waved them off with her talons as if they didn't matter. "He told me to come. He feeeeeds us and so we come. He has his messssssage!"

"Who?!"

"He says, 'Tell him what you are and tell him that if he fights, we feeeed on hisss mother.'"

"My Mother?! Don't you touch her!" Scott lunged and she jerked back from his claws, cackling as he regained his self-control. "My Mother is being protected!" He insisted. She grinned wider and tilted her head.

A second later a bone chilling howl filled the air and he knew automatically that it was Derek and that he was calling for help. His stomach went cold with dread. The creature squealed in joy when Scott leapt at her, cheerfully slapping him into the wall.  He slumped to the floor in a heap.

The creature that was once Maria Swanson hobbled over to the crumpled beast with a bounce in her shambling step. Humming to herself, she poked him with a claw to make certain he wasn't dead.  He smelled delicious, but she knew she could not indulge.  The other’s plan would see her fed. 

 

 

"No good, fluffy. I'm dead." Stiles croaked at the frantic wolf pacing over him. "My Dad....don't let...my dad...." he was trying to get words out but there was no air. Derek kept howling so damn loudly. Rude. He was choking now. Probably on blood. And he was going to bleed to death in a _hospital_ if no one came in soon.  Like a convenient doctor.

That would be nice.

He could feel that dark part of his heart growing, with the darkness in his eyes and he was really hurt and his dad would so pissed at him and "Ow!"

His eyes flew open and he blinked uncomprehendingly at Ethan where he crouched over him, red eyed and wolfy. "I'm trying to die here!" He rasped in outrage.

"And if I'm lucky you won't turn." He answered sourly. Derek shoved the alpha out of the way and licked at Stiles' bloody chest. Looking down at the wolf cheerfully licking up his blood, the _alpha_ _'s_ words and the blood on his mouth sank in.

"Derek?" He whispered, alarmed as hell because the only reason to bite him would be if he was actually dying and he hadn't really thought he was dying. Not really.

People got shot and survived all the time in movies...and if the bite didn't take he'd be Ethan's minion and Scott would feel guilty for not being there and really, what was the point in having super powered friends if a crazy person could just walk up and shoot you?! Oh god he had Melissa! Probably as a hostage to keep Scott from interfering and why was Derek still a wolf and that howl...he'd been calling for help and Ethan showed up like _real pack shit_. Neat.

"He's healing." Ethan announced critically over his internal freak out. "Stay with him. I'm going to keep people out of here and call McCall again." He left and Derek turned to peer anxiously at him, head tilted like a confused puppy. A puppy with Stiles' blood on his chops.

"I...I feel less...shocky?" He volunteered, not knowing if the wolf-brain would understand. "I...I'm not dying? Because I can't deal with any more twists today..." Derek answered him with a wet slobbery lick to the face. "Thanks for that. Totally improved the whole getting shot situation, better than you lucking my wounds, you psycho. And oh fuck-" suddenly his chest was burning in pain.

A few agonizing minutes later a bullet fell out of his bullet wound and fell bloody to the linoleum. After that he just lay curled in fetal position trying to catch his breath.

"Get up, Stiles, we gotta move." Ethan demanded, rushing in. "A lot of people got shot and we need to get out of here before the cops get here and lock the place down." Stiles groaned at him and pushed Derek's snout out of his face. Ethan growled impatiently and grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to his feet. "Don't disobey me, Beta."

"I just got shot and werewolfed! My blood is all over the floor!" Stiles protested then seemed to lose traction on reality as he stared at his blood. Ethan glanced behind him then rolled his eyes and bent, pushing his shoulder into Stiles' gut and hefted him over his shoulder.

"This is your only free ride." He warned and started out the door, Derek on his heels. He carried Stiles through the commotion and screams of pain. And a few startled yelps as Derek bounded after him.

In the parking lot Stiles' recovered enough to feel undignified. "Put me down!"

"Are you done being a useless damsel in distress?" Ethan asked, annoyed.

"Yes and thank you for your overwhelming sympathy and graciousness." He snapped. Ethan made sure his smile was more of a smirk when he set Stiles down. He wouldn't let his new beta see, but he was relieved that his bite had even worked. He and Aiden sometimes wondered if they could give the Bite when not joined into one. And wasn't that odd. He had something Aiden didn't. He had his own beta. A rude obnoxious one, but even he could see that Stiles was a scrapper. Pity he was going to have to submit his control of him to Scott.

Ethan briefly entertained thoughts of a world where he and Aidan could be Alphas alone with no Deucalion always calling, where they were strongest and they could build their own pack. Where he could keep Danny safe himself and Aidan wouldn't have to worry for Lydia every time someone died. It had been a long time since he didn't fear his own pack.

"Did you call Scott?" Stiles demanded, swaying until Derek stepped up against him. "We have to tell him about his Mom. Where's your bike?"

"I got his voicemail." Ethan growled. "Do you know where he went?"

"Looking for the vet, Deaton, for Derek. He shifted but he's not acting like Derek...Derek would have bitten my face off by now."

"I ran here from my place when I heard him. We'll have to run back for my bike." He turned to go but Stiles made a sound.

"Yeah, I uh...I think I'm still...turning or whatever, because I don't think running is going to happen for me yet." He said when Ethan turned to look at him. The alpha noticed then that Stiles was shaking and wobbling, pale and wide-eyed. It had been a while since he'd seen a newly turned wolf. He'd forgotten how gradual the first part was.

"Right. Uh...I'll go and come back for you. Hopefully Derek still has the guy's scent to track." There were more and more cars and sirens and uniforms filling the parking lot and Stiles was weak and covered in blood. Ethan frowned at how reluctant he felt to leave the other teenager alone in the snow.

"Right, go over behind the dumpster out of sight. If you get in trouble just yell. Or have Derek howl again if you can. I won't be far." Stiles just nodded and started slowly for the alley and its dumpsters, Derek pacing him closely, not minding the new wolf's finger's clenched in his fur. He dragged his eyes away and started to run, dialing his brother as he went.

"We can give the bite when we're separate." He informed his brother.

_"Who?"_

"Stilinski."

" _Fuck. We want to join McCall's pack, not have them try to kill us!"_

"It was this or watch him die...what was I supposed to do?"

_"Fuck. We have to make sure Stilinski explains it to McCall before he sees us again."_

"I sent him a text since he doesn't answer his phone _ever._ Just told him that Stiles was shot and I had to give him the bite."

_"Shit. Shit. And I can't find that thing he told me to hunt. We're fucking this up. Duke would have our heads in his place."_

"McCall is better than Duke though...that's why we're doing this." Ethan reminded as he vaulted a snow covered hedge surrounding the apartment complex where they lived.

 _"I hope you're right..."_ They were silent a minute. _"What's it feel like?"_ Ethan knew what his twin was asking.

"Not the same as pack before. I can feel him, but it’s like....it’s more. I want to protect him and seeing as it's _Stilinski_ , that's just not right." Aiden snickered. "Seriously though, I can't imagine doing what Duke, Kali, and Ennis did. The thought of it is making me feel twitchy.”

 _"We_ did _do it."_ Aiden reminded quietly.

"We took them by force...we didn't make them.  Stiles is _mine._ "

"Forget McCall, Danny is going to kill you." Aiden joked. Ethan reached his bike and climbed on, ignoring his brother’s teasing. He’d understand how _not_ sexual it was if he ever turned his own.  

"I have to ride now. I left Stiles with Derek in his pajamas in the snow and I _feel bad about it_." He hung up on his twin's laugh and started his bike, wondering how much more ridiculous Beacon Hills was going to get.

 

 _"Hey Dad. It’s me. I guess you're busy right now. If you haven't heard, a psycho walked into the hospital and shot people until Scott's Mom left with him. He uh....he shot me. I'm okay though. Almost completely healed. I uh...had to join the furry club. But not the, you know, furry club at the rec center because there's enough weird in my life without dressing up as an animal regularly. Not that there's anything wrong with that, I don't judge. But yeah, I'm a werewolf and Derek is stuck as a wolf-wolf and the bad guy has Mrs. McCall and she was really scared, god, she probably thinks I'm dead."_ John was glad he was sitting down. With all of the emotions that he had just gone through during the course of the rambling voicemail he would have fallen over. He was in his cruiser, gathering himself before walking back into the chaos of the hospital. That message ended and another began as Stiles was forced to call back for more time recording.

 _"Okay, sorry. I'm okay. I got out of the hospital and Derek is guarding me still and Ethan is...helping. I think I can get Derek to track the guy's scent, so we'll try that. I call if I find anything out. Be careful Dad. This guy just...shot people. I mean Matt talked himself into it, but this guy just decided I might be inconvenient later and shot me, no hesitation."_ Stiles' voice grew hesitant. _"The guy said that the shadows only go after people who have tried to kill themselves. I promise I'll explain, it isn't what you think. So you'll want to have people check the hospitals or psych wards or whatever."_

John listened the messages twice just to be sure he didn't miss anything, then got out of the cruiser, dialing his son's number. "Stiles."

 _"I'm okay!"_ Stiles said right away. _"Or I will be. We have to find Melissa."_

"Where are you?" He could hear wind and traffic in the background.

 _"We're following Derek, he has a scent...I don't know what, could be a rabbit for all I know. He's a full on Wolf now."_ Stiles answered over the wind.

"Don't you dare make a move without me. You are strictly on recon. Do you understand?"

_"I get it."_

"Have you heard from Scott?"

 _"Not in a while. I...Derek called for help and the only one that came was Ethan. He said that any wolf in town would have heard it..."_ He heard the anxiety in his son's voice.

"He went to meet the Argents. Have you reached any of them?"

 _"Not yet --hold on -- Ethan, turn here, this is Allison's street."_ He heard a sound as the phone muffled then Stiles yelling faintly. _"Hold on, Derek, we got see if the Argents are here! We're going to need backup!_ " The phone was lifted again. _"We're checking the Argents place...I don't see any lights or cars. Fine, let’s go back."_

"I have to deal with the hospital, son. Recon only.” He reminded. “I'll see if the FBI can be useful for once and help me look for Melissa."

_"Not that dick-"_

"We can't afford to be picky." He reminded. "Be careful. Love you, son."

 _"Yeah, love you too."_ John looked up from his cell and caught sight of Scott's father, grim and dressed in a fed suit as a sobbing nurse spoke to him. He braced himself and headed into the fray.

 

 

He

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why is the hamster dance stuck in my head?
> 
>  
> 
> [What ate Scott's battery.](http://youtu.be/kZUPCB9533Y)
> 
> Yeah.   I [Tumblr](http://www.tumblr.com/blog/doomthatimpends). 
> 
> Or Twit me @impendoom


	11. Douchalion, Alpha of Assholes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Dude! Stop with the naked! I'm trying to fight crime, here!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blahblahblah stop TALKING already. THERE IS THINGS TO BE DOING!!!
> 
> I'll reiterate, not beta'd. written on a phone on the bus. if you see mistakes like "Mobster claws" let me know when you're don't cackling. :)

"Peter." Cora's voice drew his attention from his contemplation of the sad excuse for a window. He glanced at her and saw her staring at Deucalion. The man was smiling.

"What is it now?" He asked, resigned to more posturing bullshit.

"We, my friends, just got lucky." Deucalion announced. "My dear Ethan just added another to my pack." He grinned smugly and got up, chains jingling as he stretched then walked to the bathroom sink. Peter moved before he passed, wary of letting the other walk between himself and Cora. Cora stubbornly stayed put at the end of her bed as he passed. 

Peter sat beside her casually as they watched him drink from the sink then crack his own neck and shake himself loose.

"Who?" Cora demanded.

"Hmm....I believe it's the Sheriff's boy." He answered after mulling it over a moment. Peter snarled and they both gave him surprised looks. He pulled back the eyes and fangs, forcing calm.

"I had dibs." He said with a deliberately casual shrug. He was pissed though. Stiles had been integral to his plans for controlling and eventually keeping Scott and the rest of his pack. Not to mention Stiles would have been an excellent beta. He would have to recalculate...find a way to use this new development. Maybe save Stiles from Deucalion and win favor on all sides? He would need to think on it.

"Can you call him?" He asked. They'd realized early that there was some kind of silencing magic on the apartment, they heard nothing from outside and no one could hear them. But there was nothing blocking the bonds of pack, even if only Deucalion was strong enough to use them. Problem was, Deucalion was a dick. His remaining pack wanted nothing to do with him and as they were alphas, they could ignore his summons. But a new Beta even one brought in by a different alpha...

Deucalion turned and leaned on the bathroom counter, idly kicking at the heavy engraved chain around his ankle. He closed his eyes in concentration for a long moment, then his smile grew. "As weary as I've grown of defiance in my pack, it is nice to find a beta that doesn't lose ALL faculties at the touch of my mind."

"Stiles is the only reason Scott has survived so long. He won't be easy to control by force." Peter warned the smug Alpha.

"Scott is going to be pissed." Cora muttered. "Is Stiles coming?" She tried not to sound hopeful.

"He will." Deucalion was confident. Peter? Not so much. Stiles was a stubborn little shit and getting him to do anything to help the Alpha of Assholes would be nearly impossible. Even Peter would have better luck. 

Peter himself had tried to reach out to Derek and then Cora when he'd first realized that he wasn't getting out of the chains and that the chains wouldn't separate from the wall.  He'd hardly felt anything which had been annoying.  But now that he was considering the Alpha - Beta bond, he wondered if he might have better luck with Scott.  He's created him and even though he was no longer an alpha...there could still be something there.  That in mind, Peter started to concentrate.

 

"Oh my God, Ethan! Stop groping me!" Stiles sputtered when Ethan's hand reached back to check Stiles was secure on the bike for the 80 billionth time. Honestly, Stiles had only fallen off once, when something had made his head feel like it had met a blender.  When Ethan had scraped him off the asphalt, he'd been warned that Deucalion would try to get in his head.  Then Ethan had growled him back onto the bike while Derek looked on anxiously.

"We're almost to McCall's." Ethan growled and continued his patting check anyhow. Ass.

They'd followed Derek and Ethan's noses until the scent trail had somehow fishtailed in all directions near the edge of a housing tract bordering the woods. Unable to go further, Stiles had insisted they go back for Scott and the others. They needed backup and after some haranguing, the Alpha had agreed.  That was when Deucalion had shoved his way into Stiles' head and nearly turned him into street pizza.

Stiles gave up on smacking the Alpha's paranoid hand away and went for a more practical solution. He sighed and slid his hand into the back of Ethan's belt Instead of holding onto the seat. Appeased, Ethan's hand returned to the important business of driving.

"So, Deucalion, huh?" he ventured over the wind.

"Don't listen to him." Ethan snapped, anxious.

"Does he do that to you guys all the time?" He asked.

"You'll learn how to ignore it." He insisted, hoping it was true. "And once I give you to McCall, he'll be able to block him out completely." he added.

"What do you mean 'give me' to Scott?" Stiles pointed over his shoulder at the turn to Scott's street.

"He won't protect us from Duke if I try to keep you as my own beta. Aiden and I need to join his pack." He pulled his bike up in the driveway next to Scott's less polished bike. Stiles jumped off the back of the bike and started for the front door but Derek bounded over the neighbor's fence and cut him off.

Stiles had ordered Derek to meet them at Scotts and stay off the streets. Ethan hadn't expected the older wolf to beat them there. Derek growled a warning and blocked Stiles while Ethan caught up, stepping up to put himself in front of the beta. "There’s a scent." he warned, easing forward. Derek was already around the corner of the garage, staring at the porch when Ethan got there.

There was no front door anymore. It looked like it had been blown inward. The frame was splintered and chunks of wood where the brackets had been were missing.

Before he could stop him, Stiles darted around him and up the step into the house. "Scott?!"

He was answered by a groan if pain. Ethan followed Stiles in and saw Derek already nosing at the other Alpha where he sprawled under the wreckage that used to be a wall. He could see hedge through the partial hole. Scott was trying to get up, unshifted and battered. "Peter...peter...” he was saying, flailing a little until Stiles steadied him and hauled him up.

"Peter kicked your ass?" Stiles asked, making a face that bored I'll for Scott's dignity. "We beat him when we were stupid noobs, Scott. He's the boss if the tutorial level."

"No! Why is Derek still a wolf?  Scott asked, recognizing the fuzzy thing nosy around his living room as a wolf. "Never mind, Peter didn't do this...he contacted me while I was knocked out in a dream. He's locked up with Cora and Deucalion. Some nutjob took them. The same guy that brought the monsters and the shadows." He pulled away from Stiles and looked from him to Ethan. "Where's my Mom? I heard Derek howl...is she....did he..."

"He took her. We tracked her to a neighborhood at the edge of town but we lost the scent there." Scott was staring at Stiles’ ragged and bloody pjs.

"Is that...is that her blood?" Scott asked.

"No, it doesn't matter, let’s go." Stiles waved of his near death. Ethan shot him a startled look. He wasn't even going to tell McCall?

"Fine, Derek, shift if you're healed." Scott snapped at the wolf. Derek tilted his head at him then started to shimmy and crackle. 

"What? You change for him but it’s too much for me to ask?!" Stiles sputtered in outrage.

"What attacked you here?" Ethan asked Scott to distract from the horrible sounds that accompanied a wolf becoming a man.

"It was a female, there are two. They were obsessed with hunger, with feeding.  They've been eating people. She said that if I..." Scott stopped talking, looking down as he tried to control his fear and rage.

"Hey, we'll get her back. My Dad is already on it, so is yours." Stiles reassured him. Ethan just stared at Stiles, surprised at how easily the other boy had shoved off his own trauma. "I'm not judging...but uh....did Peter say where he was when you were dreaming about him?" Stiles asked, getting smacked in the arm for wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"No...He just kept saying he was with Deucalion." Stiles glanced at Ethan and they reached the same conclusion at the same time.

"Then we can find him." Ethan said and pulled his cell out. "I need Aiden to help track him. We only get direction, two of us can pinpoint him if we're separate."  He went about the call process while Stiles jumped out of his skin as a heavy hand clamped down on his shoulder.

He jerked around to see Derek, sweaty, panting and pale, and completely bare-assed naked. Judging by how he swayed when Stiles ripped his shoulder free he wasn't overly steady, either. "Can you talk now?" Scott demanded, ignoring the naked part, but Stiles was having a fun time looking everywhere but, you know, _there._

"Yeah...I don't remember what happened....I was fighting the Wendigo and I-"

"Wendigo?!" Stiles finally found something that wasn't naked Derek to fixate uncomfortably on. "You mean regularly-scheduled-bad-guy-on-every-show-with-the-supernatural-ever Wendigo?!" Derek just looked at him.

"Well Wendigo is what they're called usually but they've been around as long as people have been. My Dad had an old book about them. They are people who are starved until they resort to cannibalism."

"Woah, hey, people used to resort to cannibalism all the time. Dahmer wasn't a Wendigo." Stiles argued.  Derek gave him that look that meant "STFU and let me talk you adorable little shit" or maybe that was how Stiles preferred to translate it.

"He was never starved. These things are hunger spirits. They have to be starving when they eat human flesh and decide not to stop."

"Then what's with the snow? Do they control the weather? What are the Shadow things?" Ethan asked. Derek just shrugged and Stiles flinched as he was reminded of the naked.

 "Dude! Stop with the naked! I'm trying to fight crime, here!"

"I'm not complaining." Ethan muttered, shamelessly staring. Hey, Danny would have done the same.

"You didn't tell me what happened? I was full-wolf..." Derek seemed bewildered, not paying attention to Scott running to the stairs and up to his room.

"You had cliché monster-claw stuck in your head. It wouldn't come out until you shifted all the way. And really...you let a monster that had air time on _Charmed_ beat you...You should be ashamed." Stiles answered while inspecting the ceiling. It was nice and not naked. And there were no muscles there. No big naked muscles on the ceiling! None at all.

"After you shifted you were Stiles' guard dog at the hospital. You howled for help?" Ethan tried to prod Derek's memory.

"Help for wha-" He stopped. "Stiles, you don't smell right." he stated flatly.

"That's just rude." Stiles protested anxiously.

"Here, Derek, these are my biggest sweats..." Scott said, tossing grey cloth at the werewolf that was sharing and sniffing intently at Stiles. "Isaac called when I was out. The Argents are going to meet us here in like...20 minutes."

"Stiles-" Derek began.

"Not now, Derek. Wait til we get Melissa and Cora back."

"Aiden is coming. He's bringing Lydia and Danny." Ethan added, shifting his weight nervously at the last name.

"Danny's cool. He'll be fine." Stiles assured him, getting an odd look from Scott. But then the moment passed as Stiles was too busy grabbing at his head. "Ow. Fuck!" Ethan was in front of him in seconds, grabbing his head and forcing him to look at him, Red eyes to flashing gold.

"Stiles!" Scott was shocked into motionlessness.

"He gave you the Bite?" Derek snarled and ripped Ethan off of him. A second later, Stiles was hunched over clutching his head, trying to push Deucalion out of his head through the worst migraine of his life. Over his head, Derek and Ethan snarled at each other.

"Stiles, why would you-?" Scott began in a small confused voice.

"A little help here??" Stiles snapped. "We get the message, Douchalion!" the last he directed at the overbearing pain in his head. Having Deucalion push into his head was odd. Nothing like sci-fi and fantasy novels tried to describe. It was like suddenly knowing something but not knowing how. But mostly it was pain that his mind somehow instinctually labeled as Deucalion.  Before it had been brief, tentative and much less painful. Now it felt like pain was coming from the other Alpha, like he was sharing it.

Then Derek slapped him. He rocked back on his heels, suddenly free of pain and pressure, clutching his cheek. He was so absorbed in the strange feeling of the slap going rapidly from sharp stinging, to a pinch and  tingle to nothing in ten seconds flat to notice that Ethan and Derek were rolling across the living room floor, crashing through what was left of the coffee table and generally trying to rip each other apart.

"Shit! What the fuck is wrong with you?!" He yelled and looked at Scott. His friend was still giving him a stricken puppy dog look, making no move to stop the idiotic brawl. "Scott! Call them off!"

"I should help Derek!" Scott growled and just like that he was shifted red-eyed rage. "He tried to take you!" Stiles stared as Scott leapt on Ethan's back in dumbfounded awe at how stupidly wrong everything was going and how much like a chick he suddenly felt.  

"What the hell is going on here?" Stiles wondered how it was possible to feel so guilty and relieved at the same time as the three werewolves froze. Ethan was standing somehow with Scott on his back like a monkey, trying to pull his head and teeth off of Derek's still naked shoulder while Derek was attempting to claw Ethan's stomach open. "Why are they fighting?" John demanded, looking at Stiles. 

Stiles considered all possible ways he could answer that could express the confusion, horror, and utter stupidity that was occurring and ended up throwing his hands up and shrugging. "Bitches be crazy?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate exposition. It feels like cheating.


	12. Blah Blah Blah Blah, Blah Blah

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halfway there Stiles discovered that he could growl and that seemed to brighten his outlook noticeably until he realized that both Derek and Ethan were looking at him like they wanted to feed him to butt-slicing cannibals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so. I saw something shiny and wandered away for a bit. But now I'm back and the story is done. So...that's neat, huh? (I knew if I didn't finish before 3b came out it'd never happen)
> 
> So yes! I'm still doling it out a chapter a day though. because I'm a terrible person. Which you all already know.

“How many is that now?" Lydia asked, staring vacantly out the windshield of her car. They were parked outside of a house where she'd gone to a party with Jackson once. The host, a sophomore who's name she couldn't remember, was dead now. Frozen to death in his bed. Lydia had merely asked his Mother if he was home and then the discovery came.

"She just kept screaming." Danny whispered. Lydia realized that if she didn't butch up they'd both lose their shit then and there. She grabbed his hand.

"I don't feel any more dead. We need to find Scott and Stiles. Stiles probably knows what's happening already. We have to make sure Scott is listening to him."

"Are you as confused by our relying on Stiles as I am?" Danny asked after she started driving again.

"Not as much as I used to be." She admitted. "I'm getting used to it though. And don't tell him I said this but he's better at this....stuff...than I am. Better than Scott and he's a werewolf."

"So... Ethan really isn't going to kill me?" Danny asked her anxiously. He expected her to dismiss his question, but she tightened her hands on the wheel.

"He might get you killed just by association. Werewolves don't have it easy in Beacon Hills. You'd be safer if you stayed away."

"You don't stay away from Aiden." He pointed out. She raised her tense shoulders.

"I can melt a werewolf's eardrums by screaming. Scott and Stiles made me practice. Scott flinched at me opening my mouth for a week."

"Most people flinch when you open your mouth, Lyds." He couldn't help teasing. She just flipped hair over her shoulder and glanced through the rear-view in time to see one of the twins jog around the corner behind them. She couldn't tell which one at the distance. She pulled over. "Why are you stopping? Another body?" He asked, voice shaky at the thought.

"Nope. Werewolf." She got out and was scooped up and kissed hard. Aiden, she hoped or everything just got a little more teen drama than anyone needed. She allowed herself to take comfort in her boyfriend for an indulgent five seconds. Before pulling back.

"We have to get to McCall's. His Mother was taken, and we can track her."

"Is that what the howling was?" Danny asked, Standing on the other side of the car between the frame and the door to try and keep warm.

Aiden turned even more grim. "That was Derek. The guy doing this shot Stiles."

"Oh God, is he-?"

"He's alive. Ethan got there in time to give him the bite." Lydia let out a shaky breath. She wasn't prepared to lose Stiles. Stiles was always there. She didn't know if she could comprehend a world without Stiles after the day she'd had. She hadn't realized how much she was needing to see him either. Aiden Soothed her and made her feel safe instinctually, but Aiden didn't make her feel strong.  Stiles had such faith in her, that she had to be badass. He didn't give her the choice.

"Ethan made Stiles a werewolf?" Danny repeated, frowning.  "He can do that?"

"Alphas can give the bite. That's how we build a pack." Aiden shrugged. "We should go. McCall is waiting for us and he is The Alpha." They got back in the car, Aiden in the back seat.

"Wait, what does that mean exactly. You and Ethan are Alphas, but you listen to Scott?"

"We want to be in Scott's pack. Safety in numbers."

"But you could build your own, right? Like with Stiles?"

"We could but Scott would fight us. We'd have to leave and we like it here." Aiden touched Lydia's shoulder over the seat back.

"Is Stiles still going to be the same?" Danny was still trying to wrap his head around it.

"He'll be less useless in general." Aiden said with a snort.

"Stiles is not useless." Danny and Lydia protested at once. Lydia gave Danny a surprised look. She knew far more about Stiles than Danny. Had more chances to understand him. Danny just shrugged. 

"Stiles is special." Lydia stated as she turned onto McCall's street.

"We'll see about that." Aiden muttered, not convinced. Stiles was still loud and annoying in his book.

 

Derek was still confused as hell and missing a lot of Information, so he decided to focus on the present, like Stiles being under mental attack. He'd slapped him, lightly really, still not reconciled with Stiles' new sturdiness. He had no problem roughing up the little shit but he'd always been care not to really hurt him.

Derek knew from personal overbearing sisterly experience that Alphas sometimes pushed too hard and that a shock could shake them free of a beta's mind. He had never imposed his will on his own betas because of these memories but the same courtesy wouldn't hold Deucalion back.

Problem was, he'd forgotten, willfully, the possessive overprotective urges that came with giving the Bite. He'd pushed away the memory to protect himself from the gaping hole where Erica and Boyd used to be. And that was how Ethan's overreaction to the light slap blindsided him. After that there were only fangs and ripping and violence until a new voice, full of authority broke into the rush of battle and he was dropped, bleeding, to the ground.

By the time Derek shook off the fight, Stiles was having his face smushed into his father's shoulder and was being hugged nearly back to death. "I almost lost you." The sheriff mumbled to his son, reminding Derek of the huge gaping hole in his memory. "What do you mean, almost lost him?" Scott asked in alarm, still shifted and clinging to Ethan's bloodied back. Derek winced as he pulled himself up to his feet. He was bleeding more than he liked but there were more important things.

"The guy who's doing all of this...he shot him. Derek howled for help, I heard. I helped." Ethan explained as simply as he could, voice defensive as he shook Scott off of him. Derek was trying to remember. To remember how he could have let Stiles take a bullet. 

"I thank you for that, I do." John said, gently pressing Stiles back so they could both address the three werewolves. Derek scowled hard. He had failed to protect Stiles and that was all Scott, all the Sheriff asked him to do. He had one job. He'd almost lost Stiles like he'd lost Cora and Boyd and Erica. What was the fucking point of him? Everyone was avoiding even looking at him.

The Sheriff was talking again. "We don't have time for you all to act like wolves instead of people right now. People have died and more will until we end this. Scott, I was only able to shake your Dad for an hour tops. I need to know everything you know."  There was a beat then: "Hale, I'm glad you've got two legs again, but please consider rediscovering clothing." Derek blinked then looked down. Yep. Still naked.

"Oh my god you forgot you were naked didn't you? You were in a werewolf deathmatch and you didn't even notice. You could've gotten your junk clawed off!" Stiles sputtered at him, flailing and still avoiding looking at him, eyes fixed on the ceiling until a thought occurred to him. "Wait, he didn't claw your junk  off, did he? " Then he of course had to look. Derek was mildly gratified when the sheriff smacked his son upside the head. He wasn't self-conscious, but they didn't really have time for more stupid.

"Dammit!" Stiles snapped, eyes suddenly flashing a startling yellow, suddenly tense as he stared at Derek in general. Derek braced himself for the accusations, the blame, for Stiles' to declare his failure as loud as he always declared Derek's failings. He was not expecting the growling snarl to be aimed at Ethan. "You ripped him up and he's not healing! We don't have time for Derek to be injured! We have to kill those things!”

"He hit you!" Ethan answered sullenly, displaying just as many gaping wounds as Derek realized he was suffering, courtesy of Scott.

"He was helping!" Stiles was starting to shift, the wolf grabbing his anger and fanning it up out of control. Ethan, taking it as a challenge started to growl back but Scott broke into the tension, voice calm but stern. Alpha voice, Isaac and Stiles had teased him for it just yesterday. It worked though.

"Mom moved her first aid kit under the kitchen sink." He offered. "Stiles, your heart rate." And that was all the new wolf needed. At the reminder Stiles took a breath and forced himself to calm down. It reminded Derek that Stiles had figured out how to train Scott in self control without ever needing Derek.

"That was trippy." Stiles muttered to himself as he stared down at his claws vanishing into his fingertips.

Scott looked away, turning to John. "They came here, they threatened my Mother..." He started to explain about the Wendigos. Stiles pointed at the sweats Derek had dropped and he obediently pulled them on then followed the younger wolf towards the kitchen. Halfway there Stiles discovered that he could growl and that seemed to brighten his outlook noticeably until he realized that both Derek and Ethan were looking at him like they wanted to feed him to butt-slicing cannibals.

"Okay, I'm not saying I don't appreciate a little protectiveness in my clawed brethren, but you both need to learn to use your words." He said and opened the massive first aid kit Melissa had always kept to combat the things two idiot boys could do to themselves. He spread the stuff on the table then went to the kitchen counter and hopped up. "Or at least you do, Ethan. Derek only speaks eyebrow." Derek just rolled his eyes and mopped at the blood oozing down his shoulder and over his chest. The ragged bite hurt like a bitch, but it was no more than he deserved these days. He hadn't begun to feel the other scratches yet. It was oddly gratifying to see Ethan was just as bloody from Scott's attack.

"Look, I don't want to fight with Scott, and that means I don't want to fight with you. We need your pack." Ethan started the olive branch extending process as he tried to apply a butterfly bandage to the gash Scott had torn in his left bicep. "Aiden and I never gave the Bite to anyone." And that was all he had to say because suddenly Derek was nodding, understanding.

"You were protecting your pack." Derek said, annoyed at his voice for being too rough. He'd failed his entire pack. Twice.  Ethan was already doing better than Derek had ever managed.

"Okay, really, you're going to bond over trying to kill each other now?" Stiles was just about done with both of them. "Derek, the bandages go on your wounds, not near them. Ethan’s why are you trying to bandage the wrong arm? Pay attention to your own gaping skin holes."

Derek scowled and looked down at what he was doing…he wasn’t that far off.  Ethan however… Stiles growled in irritation and smacked Ethan's hand out of the way so he could secure the bandage himself. Ethan was smirking at him now. "Thank you, Stiles. You'll make someone an excellent wife one day."

"I hate you both." Stiles decided. "I have a massive Douchalion-induced headache, everyone's been kidnapped by cannibals and murderers and you're biting holes in each other over Derek bitch slapping me."

"He couldn't help it Stiles. Alphas protect their pack. It's instinct. You’re his beta." Derek protested. "He'll relax soon, but it's hard at first."

"His people murder their pack, Derek." Stiles pointed out. “I’m not saying, don’t watch my back around him….I saying, don’t try to maim him until after we stop the bad guys.”

"I'm not going to kill you, Stiles." Ethan ground out, but the reminder was making Derek tense.

"Whatever, look, you're patched up. Go help Scott." Stiles pretty much ordered.  Derek found it completely surreal to see Stiles demand that someone else leave instead of himself, and even more surreal, watching a beta order an Alpha around. Ethan didn't look happy, but he bit back his argument and stomped out of the kitchen.

"Scott won't let him hurt you." Derek said awkwardly in the silence. Stiles' eyes snapped to his face and he narrowed them, face grim.

"Scott has his own problems. He didn't keep me from being shot." He pointed out, leaning on the table and glaring at Derek's chest wound lime it had insulted him personally.

"Neither did I." Derek pointed out like the masochist was. It was better for them to establish all the hatred now before the real fight. Stiles just snorted.

"You don't remember it at all, do you?" Stiles demanded.

"It doesn't matter. I should've stopped a human, a regular gun."

"Dude, none of us expected him to shoot me. You couldn't have seen it coming. And you were protecting me from even Scott's Mom. It wasn't your fault. Well...not directly. I still think all of this happened because you were a dick and let yourself have fun and be happy. Stop pissing off the universe." Derek stared as the teen turned, continuing to rant about Hales cursed to grumpiness as he strolled out the door.

Stiles was insane.

As he marveled at this thought, Stiles popped his head back around the door frame. “I don’t remember anyone telling you to stop protecting me.  You’re still on guard dog duty, get over here.”  He ordered. Derek considered whether slapping him again would be worth the additional damage Ethan could do to him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so much talking and blah blah omg everyone just make out or something.


	13. SUV believes it can fly. It believes it can touch the sky.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Do you….do you think Ethan will try to kill me?" He asked.
> 
> "He won't get the chance." Derek answered soberly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> do do...dodo do dooooo dooooo.
> 
> That is all.

"Do we know that the shooter that took my Mom is actually in charge? I mean the Wendigo was definitely following orders."  Scott asked everyone when they had all gathered.  He allowed himself a flicker of pride that somehow they'd all managed to come together in one place.  No one was fighting (at that very second, earlier didn't count) and no one was murdering each other. 

"It was him." Stiles spoke up. He looked exhausted, still wearing his bloody plaid pajamas, slumped at the end of the couch. Ethan was sitting on the couch arm next to him, still protective in spite of himself. Lydia was sitting on his other side holding this hand tightly, possessive in her own way while Aiden scowled at them and paced. Derek "casually" leaned on the other side of the loveseat, still oddly playing Stiles' watchdog. Scott would remember this moment next time Stiles whined that no one loved him. "This guy didn't hesitate to think about whether he should do...anything. He was calling the shots."

"I tried to get surveillance of him but all of the hospitals cameras and the cameras in the liquor store across the street, anything that could record anything at all just turned off when he came. I have dozens of conflicting witness descriptions, all of them sitting with our sketch artist, but it'll be hours before that pans out. There wasn't even a consistent description for his vehicle or if he even had one." John reported. "The Feds have even less than I do, but they're doing their best to get in the way." He sighed. "Only upside is that my deputies are so new that they're slowing the Feds down enough to keep them out of the way, but it's only a matter of time before people report these...Wendigo things."

"There's too much information about them in the bestiary. Dozens of legends but no one has managed to kill one...that I've found so far." Allison said from Stiles' laptop. Stiles didn't even know how it had gotten from his house to Scotts. He suspected Isaac, who was prowling around outside while listening in. That had been Chris's suggestion.

"All of this shows a lot of pre-meditation. He took Deaton, Peter, Cora, Deucalion, even Ms. Morrell and now Melissa." Chris pointed out.

"We need to figure out why. He took Melissa to control Scott.  Why the others?"

"Deaton and Morrell would have been able to explain the magic part and maybe stop him." Aiden offered.

"Why not just kill them? He had no trouble just leaving me where I fell. He would've left their bodies if he killed them." Stiles stated, ignoring how his Dad flinched at the reminder of his near demise. Scott didn't flinch, but he had to tighten his fists as he paced to keep the rage from crawling outward to be visible.

He'd spoken to Isaac when people were arriving. He'd tried to get to the hospital after hearing Derek's howl but was too far away. Aiden had been halfway there when his brother had called him. Was that how a pack was supposed to work? Backing each other up like that? If it was, it was so different from the dysfunctional pack he'd seen so far. He liked it though. Liked knowing that his friends and family could call for help, even if it didn't show in time to save everyone. It had saved Stiles.

"There are a lot of bad things you can do with Werewolf blood. Especially an Alpha's blood. That's another reason why we cut them in half, it drains the bodies more quickly so it can't be salvaged." Chris added his creepy-ass knowledge. John shifted uncomfortably at the references to the Hunter's vigilantism. They had an understanding but it still chafed his law-abiding heart.

"So, this guy called up the Wendigos and the shadows, grabbed a few werewolves and a hostage and our only witchy people...what for? What's his end game?"

"Power."  Derek and Lydia answered Aiden in unison then gave each other uncomfortable looks.

"He's preparing for something bigger than just freezing people." Derek went on. Deaths like these, the storm, he's planning something and these are just the first stages."

"He's taking power from all of this....the dead...the chaos. Its helping him." Lydia was quiet but everyone found themselves staring at her. "And don't ask me how I know." She added when Scott started opening his mouth to do just that. "Or where he is."

"Right...that was super-helpful." Stiles drawled at her and rolled his eyes. "Look. This guy was a sociopath. He was absolutely no regard for life. Killing me didn't even ding on his emotional radar. He didn't get a thrill out of it. He has bigger plans and the deaths, the Wendigos...they're just tools."

"Whatever it is we need to stop it." Scott spoke to bring the others back from speculation. "Aiden and Ethan can track Deucalion. Which will lead us to where he's keeping Cora and Peter. Peter didn't say anything about my Mom or Deaton or Ms. Morrell though."

"It's a start, though. We find one of his locations we can get a lot from the scene, fingerprints, financials, aliases...things that can get us to where he's keeping your Mother." John assured Scott.

"What about his threat?" Allison spoke up. "If you fight, Scott-"

"I know." He said, grimly.

"I wouldn't risk showing your face in this. If keeping her hostage doesn't work on you, I don't doubt that he'll kill her to save himself the trouble of holding her." Stiles told his friend what he didn't want to hear. "He's known too much about us so far. He has to be watching us somehow."

"Fine. He won't see me. I'm going to stay here and figure out how to kill the Wendigos." He ground out finally then turned from his pacing to look at the others gathered there. "We need a plan."

 

 

"This is weird and awkward and we look stupid."  Stiles informed Derek.  "I feel like I just sticking my ass in the air over and over.  Like I'm just yelling 'come slice my butt off!' in the sign language of butts that werewolves speak in while running."

"Then how is this any different from how you usually run?"  Derek asked, wondering why Chris insisted on following every traffic law when they were only people on the roads during the snow storm.  Derek and Stiles had been following them carefully  through the woods along the route that they'd planned out in advance, watching and waiting for whatever it was that told the enemy what they were doing. 

So far all they'd learned was that Stiles thought running on all fours was the least cool thing a werewolf could do.  "I don't think I like it when you mock me.  I liked it better when you just glared at me and thought about ways to kill me with your eyebrows."  Stiles informed him, fidgeting with the waistband of the unnecessarily tight jeans he'd borrowed from Scott.  He had nearly left the house covered in dried blood before the sheriff stopped his son and pointed out that a change of clothes might be advisable. 

"Why are you so fixated on my eyebrows?"  Derek asked, annoyed and started to jog as Argent's vehicle started to move again finally.  Stiles fell in beside him easily enough.  He hadn't complained about running upright.  Derek suspected that it was Scott's jeans that were making him complain so much.  Stiles didn't seem to like wearing clothing that let people in on the fact that the teen had actual muscle. 

"They're very…eloquent.  They speak volumes about what madness lies inside your fuzzy head.  And since you're terrible at expressing yourself, I had to learn alternate forms of communication."  Derek considered tripping him. "See, right there….they just told me that you want to do violence to me." 

"I always want to do violence to you."  Derek pointed out. 

"Yeah….your eyebrows do that a lot." Derek snorted and grinned when Stiles almost ran into a tree while trying to catch a snowflake on his tongue.  They jogged in silence for a little while until, satisfied that he'd caught at least one snowflake, Stiles spoke again.

"Do you….do you think Ethan will try to kill me?"  He asked.

"He won't get the chance."  Derek answered soberly. 

"If he tries…if he does….whatever.  Don't let Scott kill him."  Stiles said after a few moments silence.  Derek frowned at him.  "Just….promise me you'll do it.  If you can't save me, at least avenge me so Scott doesn't have that blood on his hands."  Stiles was utterly serious now.  Derek looked away, disturbed.  "Derek?"

"I promise."  What else  could he say?  Stiles seemed appeased and Derek picked up the speed as they started to drift too far behind the SUV.

"Your eyebrows are making me uncomfortable, Derek."  Stiles declared, shattering the heavy moment.

"How?"  Derek humored him by asking. 

"They're saying that I look totally sexy in tight jeans when I'm speaking the Werewolf Language of Butts."  Derek thought fondly of the days when they used to exchange only threats and careful violence. 

 

 

"I don't like this plan." Isaac decided, peering out the windshield at the swirling faux-night the storm had brought. Chris didn't look away from the road, it was getting icy on the streets and he wanted to avoid something silly like an accident. They were headed to the Argent's to get more weapons and to get Ethan far enough away from Aiden to triangulate Deucalion's location.

"I don't like it either." Ethan agreed, brooding in the back seat of the SUV. He'd been pretty vocal arguing certain points until Scott had literally snarled at him and Danny had actually called him an ass-hole. Now he was out following his new Alpha's orders on Derek's guarantee. Derek, who'd lost half his pack while Alpha was supposed to be protecting his only beta.

"Do you not like the plan, or the fact that Scott sent Derek with Stiles instead of you?" Isaac asked, looking back at the Alpha.

"Derek couldn't even protect his own pack, how is going to protect mine?" Ethan complained.

"You murdered Derek's pack." Isaac snarled at him, eyes flickering gold.

"And it was easy. Derek was weak." Ethan answered harshly. He wasn't in the mood to make excuses or try to shift the blame back to Duke. "Stiles is my pack. I wouldn't let him be killed like that."

"No, you'd rather kill him yourself. That's where the real power is, isn't it?" Chris's dry response broke into the hostility and Ethan stared, suddenly realizing exactly why Scott sent him into battle with the Argent and the last wolf on Earth that would trust him. Scott didn't trust him with Stiles.  But he would never- not with how it felt to be responsible for his tiny pack of one.  His every instinct screamed against it. He'd given power to Stiles to save him, to take it back would be foul.  Supernatural backwash that also stole from the victim. 

Ennis and Kali, they had inherited their packs, the only beta Ennis had bitten himself had been killed long before his madness.  They hadn't created their packs from scratch.  Like Ethan and Aiden, they killed betas that were not of their own making.  But Deucalion had created his betas and had taken their families under his protection as well.  Ethan suddenly understood just how sick Deucalion had to be to do what he did.

And they'd forced Derek to kill his own. 

Ethan swallowed, feeling sick.  Before he'd seen what had happened in terms of strength and weakness.  Derek was weak, and that was why he couldn't handle joining the Alpha pack.  Scott was strong but too pure.  Now he understood exactly what Deucalion had expected Derek to do and what his brother and he had forced him to do.  And he couldn't blame Scott for not trusting him.

"We're being followed."  Chris said quietly, interrupting Ethan's epiphany. "Just behind the treeline."  They looked and saw a white figure bounding through the forest side of the road, keeping pace with the SUV.  "You have a read on Deucalion?" Ethan mentally cursed himself for being so distracted and reached out.

"About a mile and a half south of here."  He said finally, then cursed out loud when the Wendigo veered suddenly and leapt on the hood.  Chris slammed on the breaks hoping to throw it off balance while Isaac lifted the shotgun filled with some of the nastiest ammunition the Argent family had.  Unfortunately, the universe seemed to like Scott's plan just as much as Isaac and Ethan did, because that was when the ice came into play. 

 

 

"Shit."  Stiles managed to say, crouching in the treeline beside Derek.  He was out of breath, as he was still getting the hang of the weird running on all fours thing that Derek was making him do to keep up.  They'd dropped back when the big female Wendigo had appeared to be tailing their bait.  Stopping gave them the perfect vantage point to see Argent's snow-covered SUV  get pounced on, then the subsequent attempt to brake.  The ice threw the SUV into a spin, then it hit the edge of the road and the raised dirt shoulder before dropping dramatically down into the ditch beyond.  The SUV's momentum then forced it along, rear over front until it slammed hard into the nearest tree so the whole thing came to a loud crashing rest upside down at a 45 degree angle.  "That was not in the plan."  Stiles breathed and started to lunge forward to go help but Derek grabbed his wrist and forced him back and down into the snow as the Wendigo he'd forgotten looked around for witnesses then strolled down the road cackling to herself, taking her time approaching the mangled wreck. 

Stiles jumped when Derek tugged his arm then led him around, through the trees to approach it from the other direction. 

"We can't take her alone, we need the others to come close." Derek whispered grimly, stalling Stiles when he would have rushed to the defend the wreck. 

"We can't just leave them!"  He whispered back. 

"Oooh!  You're still pure!"  The Wendigo creaked happily as she bent over the passenger's side and reached inside.  "He'll give me a treat if I bring you."  She giggled and held Isaac's unconscious body up like a rag doll to inspect.  He groaned slightly and she grinned wide as she slung him over her shoulder like a sack. 

She leaned down and peered into the vehicle again.  "You'll be dead soon, but you aren't for eating…"  She clucked disapprovingly.  "Cold take you."  She decided and with that, she turned and started to stride away down the side of the road, unafraid of being seen.  Derek let Stiles go and the younger man lunged forward for the driver's side.

"Isaac…..it took him."  Chris said first, still dangling from his seatbelt.  His face was bloody and he looked bewildered, but he'd survive if not left for the cold as the Wendigo assumed. Derek and Stiles pulled him free then went back for Ethan.  He was out, his head looking like a squished pumpkin and his arms and legs broken. 

"He'll heal."  Derek said shortly as he dropped him beside Argent where he sat on his Cell calling for help. 

"Go.  We'll be fine. Ethan said they were a mile and a half south.  You'll have to hope the others had more luck if you lose her scent like before."  Argent urged them.  Stiles nodded and Derek had to wait until the new werewolf finished digging in the wreck.  He emerged carrying the shotgun.

"Let's go."

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If Ethan has an Epiphany, is it an Epithany? Ethiphany?


	14. Setting Them Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John jumped when his cell buzzed and pulled it out to see a text from his son.  
> "Did it work?"  
> He sent his response to both Stiles and Scott. "One down."

 

 

 

Robert was starving. Honestly, Robert was nearly always starving. He was only not starving when he was actively eating, and even then he was still at the very least peckish. This had been the state he and his lovely wife Maria had been in for as long as they could remember. Over a century now.  He remembered their farm still and how the pink flesh of his children tasted. He remembered them especially now as he waited for the sweet huntress.

The Master had told them to watch the wolf pack and to follow. If the Alpha with the dark hair fought they must tell the Master. If any of his pack fought, well, they could feed as they pleased, no longer bound only to those who failed to end themselves as before. The Master only asked that they save any of the pure ones for him. 

To his glee, Robert knew that the huntress was not pure. She stank of sin as his eldest, Lisa had. And Lisa's soft flesh had gave him much joy before she filled his belly so many years ago. Watching and waiting for the huntress to leave the group had his mouth watering, the saliva dripping from his mouth to freeze on the snow of his hiding spot. Maria had given up on waiting with him, following the other group to feed her hunger, but Robert was the patient one, Maria could never wait very long.

Finally, his prey stepped out of the house and walked down the path to a car, the red-headed creature beside her followed by the law man and one of the two matching alphas. To his delight, they separated at the  bottom of the path and the huntress and the wolf took one car while the others took the car with the lights on it. One wolf would need no effort.

Soon he was following through the frozen streets, waiting for his chance.  When it came he nearly hopped with glee. The car she drove stalled with the cold at a crossroads.

Robert took his chance and leapt forward, bounding across the frozen street, intent on the left side of the car.

He was so focused on his prey that he did not see or hear the other car coming. It hit him like a cannonball and threw him into a tree on the side of the road.

 

"He's getting up!" Allison warned Aiden as they scrambled out if the car. The sheriff and Lydia were getting out of the cruiser where it had stopped perpendicular to the first car, everyone scrambling to prepare for whatever the creature would do next.

Aiden vaulted the car and charged at the Wendigo, hoping to hit it before it really recovered.  But before he reached it, it was already staggering to its feet, rheumy yellowing eyes focused on Allison as she raised her crossbow.

It didn't even really look at Aiden. It simply raised a clawed hand and literally smacked the Alpha down into the ground, and then raised its hand to casually catch Allison's crossbow bolt and toss it away before the exploding tip could impact on anything.

Lydia had her frantic eyes on Aiden, waiting for him to get up.  When he didn't move again she realized that she was out of options.  She took a deep breath to center herself then, screamed.

Finally there was a reaction. The Wendigo shrieked back at her, grabbing its grotesque head and stumbling to a halt halfway to where Allison was hurriedly reloading.

The Hunter and the Sheriff exchanged a look as Lydia's scream ran down, both wincing but otherwise unhurt by the sound.   They knew they had to move now so they did together.  John unloaded a clip directly into it's skull,  while Allison hit it with another explosive bolt. The bolt burst it's skull outward, and then the rest of the head followed the bone fragments into the air as Allison dropped the crossbow and brought her matching blades up through  it's neck.

The silence that followed was filled only by their harsh breaths for a long moment until it was broken by Aiden's pathetic whimper.

Lydia gave a cough that made John jump, then cleared her throat then rushed to help Aiden.  John and Allison both found it necessary to prod the headless monster with the tips of their boots before moving on to more productive tasks.

John jumped when his cell buzzed and pulled it out to see a text from his son.

Did it work?

He sent his response to both Stiles and Scott. One down.

 

 

"Hell yeah. Score one for Lydia's screeching." Stiles reported to Derek as he did a happy little dance. "But that seriously hurts like a mofo even from here." Derek grabbed him by the back of his borrowed jacket and shoved him back down into the snow before he made himself too visible in the gloomy light.

They were crouched outside a two story house, completely nondescript in a block of five similar houses. They'd tracked the Wendigo there and had seen her vault the five foot privacy wall around the backyard easily then go inside.

"Can you smell anything? I was smelling...everything before but now I've got nothing..."

"There hasn't been a scent for two miles, Stiles." Derek chided. "You need to pay better attention."

"Hey I'm still new." He defended, growling for effect. Derek pushed his face back into the snow and ignored the flailing that resulted. When he released him Stiles finally sobered up a little and joined him in really looming at the place.

"The back windows are boarded up." He pointed out.

"Then that's where we need to go." Derek decided, getting up but Stiles grabbed the back of his sweatpants and nearly pulled them down before Derek stopped to glare at him.

"He can do magic, right? So who says he doesn't have some way to tell if someone is coming? We gotta find out more. Let's look at the front, see if there's a car or a window we can see into."

Derek couldn't argue with that.

 

 

"Did you hear that? That has to Lydia." Cora whispered anxiously, huddled next to Peter on their bed. Both of them were avoiding looking at Deucalion, who was lying in a shaking bloody pile on his own bed.

An hour previously the Man with no name had came into the room and said a single word. Deucalion had started to scream and try to rip his chains off for a long agonizing moment, then he'd dropped unconscious. Peter had been relieved...the sound had been almost terrible enough to make him pity the alpha.

But then the Man had started to hum to himself as he knelt beside the shaking alpha and drew a knife.

Cora had thrown up when the man had started to skin Deucalion alive, then Peter had to hold her back, force her to be quiet and to look away when her hysteria drew the man's gaze. Half an hour of the man humming "Blueberry Hill" while he mutilated the other wolf, knowing that he was trying to heal himself even as he was peeled... Peter wouldn't admit it, but after Deucalion woke up screaming the first time, he was holding onto Cora for his own comfort as much as for hers.

Now, with the man long gone, they sat close together and waited.

"Scott got my message. He won't leave us here." Peter assured her as much as himself.

"Was that..." She hesitated. "Was that what it was like when you were in the fire?" He frowned, looking down at her head on his shoulder.

"Why?"

"Because if being burned is anything like being flayed...then I get it." She whispered. He stared at her.

"You get it?"

"Why you're still using the wolf to function...I get it." He didn't know what to say to that. He had never anticipated that kind of conversation, never planned the reaction that would be correct.

"I just wish you'd come back. You were always an asshole but you were still there when we needed you." He didn't know what to say to that either. Or to think really.

 

 

 

The plan was, sneak upstairs, free Cora and Peter and if absolutely necessary, Deucalion, then make a lot of noise to get the Wendigo out of the living room so Derek could free Isaac from the demented rack they'd seen through the window. That way, when they faced the Wendigo they would have a little more help than just the two of them.

He'd made Derek take the shotgun as he would be in more direct danger but it had taken a lot of convincing. They were basing their plan on too many variables and they knew it, but Stiles was a champion at irritating people into doing things (Coach Finstock excluded) and when Derek had tried to force his opinion by shoving Stiles against a tree, Stiles had found it easy enough to push the other werewolf away. That had led to a long moment staring at each other, processing the shift of interpersonal power. Stiles had then grinned in triumph and Derek had let Stiles shove the shotgun into his hands.

"If they can't fight, if they're hurt or….or whatever.  Just get them out through the window." Derek had ordered him. "I fought the other one...These things are too strong to face alone."

"So you expect me to bail and leave you to get another brain full of claws? Are you stupid?"

"Stiles, this isn't a discussion."

"You aren't my alpha, Derek. Two of us is better than one and I'm not going to just leave you to die. I've invested too much effort in keeping you alive already."

"Effort?" Derek scoffed.

"Don't you dare even think about forgetting the pool, Derek.  Your muscles may be very manly and attractive, but they're also stupidly heavy and I never once heard a 'thank you for saving me from Jackson's lizard PMS, Stiles.'" Stiles was launching into a full on rant now.  Derek realized that he had to shut him up now or he never would.

"Thank you for saving me from the Kanima."  He said over Stiles' next words.  The teenager fell silent, startled. 

"What?"

"Thank you for the pool.  And warning me about Jennifer.  And keeping Cora alive while we fought."  Derek listed.  Stiles gaped at him, completely thrown.  "Now say 'you're welcome'."  He prodded.

"Uh I…er….you're welcome?"  Stiles stammered. Derek grinned, patted Stiles on the shoulder roughly, and lifted the shotgun. 

"Be careful, Stiles."  He suggested. 

"Uh…you too, Derek." 

 

 

Maria was famished. So famished that in her skin her beloved Robert would have started feeding already. But Maria had self control, and she had a good healthy fear of the Master. So she had left the perfectly good flesh of the wounded behind and had carried the pure wolf child back to the Master's home.

He had given clear instructions. At nightfall she was to drain the wolf girl again then bring him the blood and the second weaker wolfman. If she did it sooner there wouldn't be enough blood.

But Maria...she was clever. She knew that another pure wolf was just as good and the one she had found was bigger. She could bleed him now, then bring g the Master his blood and he would let her have an even greater feast than the wolf pack. He would. Let her have the Leader.

So Maria chained the pure wolf boy up like she was taught and she opened his veins, drooling and muttering as the scent of blood filled the room. She found herself fixated on the pattering fall of blood in the bowl beneath him. So fixated that she did not hear the sliding door to the backyard open behind her.

She did, however, hear the clatter of the boards being ripped from the windows upstairs. She shrieked in rage at the sound above her then shrieked again when she was hit point blank in the belly by a shotgun wielding werewolf. That didn't slow her down much. She grabbed the wolf and threw him across the livingroom and through the plaster wall dividing it from the kitchen. With that out if the way she turned her attention back to the sounds above. She could not allow the Master's pets to escape.  But to get into the room, she would need the key.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a weird craving for pork now.


End file.
